


Time Fucking Travel

by TheOnlyHuman



Series: AU: Deep Claws [11]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: 'cuz i'm weak for that shit, Bat Family, Bruce is actually nice in Batman Beyond, Damian is scary, Deal With It, Dick Grayson is a Talon, F/F, F/M, Female Talon Dick Grayson, Female Terry McGinnis, Female!Dick Grayson, He is Nyssa Wayne, I'll add more tags later, Im sleep deprived, Jason doesn't give two shits about anything anymore, Nyssa Wayne, Or ill kill u mothertruckers, R&R, R&R please, Rachel Grayson - Freeform, Terry is bi, Time Travel, Trans Female Character, Trans Nyssa (Batman), Trans Terry McGinnis, When the Legends of Tomorrow pop up they'll be a big family, Wow, big shit, does me swearing in the title put people off?, god i love tagging, help me, how could i forget that tag, i just love fucking up our comics, idfc, idfk, im not sure if i got the right "wreck", it fucking happened, like "hoola hoola" big shit, seriously, shifty shit, shit happened in my timeline, some pretty random shit, srsly, the Legends pop up eventually, they're a fucking wreck, they're all crazy as shit, this is for you Ben, yay, yeah - Freeform, yep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-07-13 17:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 44,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16022495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyHuman/pseuds/TheOnlyHuman
Summary: (2027). Jason was expecting a quick in-out and then Thai, not god damn time travel. The sad thing is, the future apparently doesn't have Thai and Bruce fucking Wayne will not provide.And what's up with all these side-ward glances directed at him?Or:"I'm pretty, I get it. Fuck off," he growled."W-What?" Future-Barbara spluttered,  leaning back in her Commissioner's seat. "Pardon?"Jason levelled her with a glare that could even make his Damian back home baulk. "Do I need to repeat myself? I swear to god, you people 'round here have a staring complex or some shit."





	1. Fuck Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this heap of shit. I don't know what I'm doing but hey, here it is.
> 
> Expect updates bi-weekly. (As in, every two weeks.)
> 
> This one is kinda short. They'll get longer. (Hopefully.)
> 
> (Btw, it's 2027 now.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going through this story and editing. Sorry if something happens in one chap that contradicts its next or previous one. It's a good idea to reread once I finish editing.
> 
> Chapter status: edited.

 

Rachel twirled under a thug's gun, sword slicing cleanly through it as she pulled her knee up high to get him in the balls. True to the beck and call of nature the man squealed (rather girl-ishly, in Jason's opinion) and sunk down on his knees, cradling his crotch with greater care than he'd handled his gun.

A thorn-tipped arrow shot through the thug's chest, piercing through vertebrae to peek through the arching of his ribs. Jason's mind paused as he watched the ecstatic grin spread on Rachel's lips despite how his gun was humming in his hand with each shot fired.

Bullet-riddled, arrow punctured and with bruised balls, the lug faceplanted with a plop.

Jason's laugh was tinged with hysterics fueled only by adrenaline. It left him feeling gleefully murderous as the voice modulator made it sound harsh and disembodied.

Kori wooshed by behind him, fire flowing behind her like a memory of years gone past, changing colour as it went. Despite how unusual it was for Kori's fire to _ever_ change, Jason watched with a detached indifference as the Tamaranean burnt a scared huddle of goons to ash.

Everything was going well for  _once._  Always a pleasant surprise with the Outlaws.

They were currently just south of Guadalajara, Mexico, dealing with a rather unwanted gang takeover in a small unnamed town. The Outlaws, becoming more and more known as heroes rather than anti-heroes and such (because apparently no-one cared if it was a criminal you shot), had been called out in a show of trust and respect. And well, if people  _wanted_  a blood bath who was Jason to deny them?

In truth, Jason didn't really care why they'd been called or what people's secret kinks where; all he wanted to do was finish this up, preferably by putting a bullet in the boss’ head and grabbing the payment - so that he and Rache could get back to Gotham for dinner within the hour. Because Thai Night was too damn good to miss.

(Thank god for Duke and his innate ability to tinker with their gadgets with great results at three in the morning.)

Luckily for them, there had been reports of some supposed magician, or devil, as some liked to call him ( _crazy Mexicans_ ), floating around this certain mob boss but as of late (aka, the ten minutes they'd already spent crashing this warehouse party and the two days of stake-out prior) none of them had even noticed anything remotely magic-y about this sit com. And with people to shoot and Thai to get back to, Jason wasn't too worried about being jumped by some wannabe.

Maybe that was why it worked.

One minute, he's got his trusty revolver (because he loves the god damn thing more than he loves peaches - and he _loves_ peaches (and avocados but that's irrelevant)) to the sniveling boss’ head and is ready to shoot. The next; he's sprawling his limbs out mid-air, heart chugging in blood quicker than it can punt the shit out as he tries to not get himself killed in a painful cement-y death. Because trust him to be flying through the air from a fucking burst of _magic_.

He ends up slamming into Roy, and with both of them letting out sharp sighs they both end up as heaving sprawls on the grime-ridden cement floor. His gun skitters away like a rat on fire.

Roy's ribs dig into him like a child with a twelve foot sundae and a spoon. _What the fuck do you do with your ribs, man, sharpen them?_

Jason swallows the blood that comes from biting his tongue because this is not the time to release and pull up his helmet's front to spit. Not when Kori is flying past them both a moment later, air boiling and seemingly ablaze as she snaps by, body terribly limp. The woman crashes into the sturdy concrete wall of the warehouse with a spiderweb of cracks marking her spot. It sounds like it hurts but right now, it says she's _out._

Jason sees red long before she even touches the ground.

No one injures or fucks with his team. Not any one of them or the baddies and sure as hell not  _today_.

(He doesn't know why he mentally imagined 'today' as itallic.)

(It doesn't matter.)

He roars, on his feet and charging before his mind can assess the damage to his body and pull back.

A sword glitters past his helmet as he pushes into the fray, joining Rachel for a moment in trading blows before pushing forward, past her swords, and punching the fucking bastard. There's a blue shimmering bubble around the cloaked asshole that has his fists bouncing off like a fly hitting a jelly mound.

If he didn't have anger issues before, he definitely has them now. He changes tactics, going for the face and then for the hood. When the hood is rocked by a particularly strong punch the man scoffs and with a finger flick Jason's through the opposite wall, buried deep in old brick that crumbles upon his introduction.

Jason can barely see. His vision tipping like a drunken sailor in the midst of a storm with his insides churning like the sea itself. What he can make out, aside from the lanky brick wall he's slumped down in, is Rachel's tense stance.

The man seems to be speaking but Jason can't make any of it out as his helmet's visor sparks and collapses into static. When it clears his chest is burning with the sudden force of Rachel being flung into him.

A indecipherable shout rings out before there's a deafening silence. Black invades his vision and when Jason blinks to chase it away he opens his eyes to a different place.

It's an alleyway. Dirty, dark, smelly. There's a grey dumpster with graffiti and stickers off to his left, he finds as his eyes stop burning. Rachel's weight on him is both worrying and reassuring as she shifts, drunkenly bringing up a hand to feel around his thigh, attempting to gain her bearings and sit up.

The wall in front of them is futuristic looking almost, with gleaming near invisible bricks that are a sleek shiny black. It sends something in Jason tumbling.

Rachel slackens against him suddenly as something pricks him in the neck. Jason collapses into darkness. Laughter follows him.


	2. Batwoman of The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan pretty quick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned into a 3k chap, lmao so sorry.
> 
> Status: edited.

 

“Look what we got 'ere,” A voice drawled. Rachel shifted, finding her body being held firm against a very cold surface. Hot static-like pain shot up her back as something jabbed into her and she let out a soft, near inaudiable, moan at the disturbance.

“Two real stunners, boss.” Another voice hummed agreeably. It sounded masculine and rough from possible disuse. From their breathing they were either really fat or just had a lot of muscle. Henchmen, no doubt. Rachel knew the signs, she didn't need to see to recognise them.

She hadn't opened her eyes yet, for good reason. With them feeling glued shut it was like she'd been dosed with antidelectrum just like so long ago. Her throat felt dry and her nerves tingled against the cold stone floor. A painful buzz at the forefront of her skull signalled an incoming tension headache as she finally mustered up the will and opened her eyes.

She's in a dimly lit warehouse thats walls are like the inside of a daycare from hell - mangled colours and all, the only exception being that it looks like a failed rendition of an army suit; murky greys and sickening charcoal being constants.

Her arms were tied painfully behind her back, nearly dislocated from their sockets thanks to a large round pillar they'd been tied round. Shadows shift to her left but Rachel can't seem to focus on them, instead squinting at Jason who's tied up opposite her in exactly the same way.

Her husband catches her eye and smiles his smile that means shit's went down big time.

She's not too sure why they should be worried but that might be the force that's making her head hurt and her chest constrict talking. And yes, maybe she should've found Jay's lack of a helmet and their shared lack of weapons worrisome but she couldn't find it in her to care.

Rachel felt oddly... _empty_. Hollow yet not as her head's pulsing turned into a steady thrum as the voices grew.

At the very _least_ she had mild concussion, either from... from what? She couldn't remember.

She was pretty sure that was bad.

“Dressed up as the Bat's scorn too; Nightwing an’ Red Hood.” A cruel voice laughed, somewhere far to her left, as she blinked wearily tuning into their conversation as it calmed down. “Damn. If the Big Bat knew ‘bout this he'd be turnin’ in his grave.”

The other two voices from before joined the newest voice as they laughed. Rachel's head felt pulverised at the loud sound, made only worse by the prominent jealousy of what seemed to be common street criminals using the family's nickname for Bruce.

She wondered why she felt jealous at that before her thoughts jumped to how the walls looked like the insides of a mountain's yet at the same time they did not, despite how they were earlier intimidating an army shirt's camouflage. Thinking on it, it sort-of reminded her of Challengers Mountain.

Why would someone in their right mind build something that looked like the insides of Challengers Mountain?

In their defense not _everyone_ had seen the inside of that mountain. But why was she even defending them? They didn't need it, surely they had some decent lawyers and if not, she was definitely not recommending any.

“Got tha' right, boss.” The second voice snarked. Somehow Rachel related that voice to Leonard Snart's. “Big ol’ Batsy didn’ even like these two ‘fore they fucked up, can't see why somebody’d wanna dress up as one of ‘em, nervermin’ both.”

Or maybe not. Cold wasn't as loose tongued and street sounding as this man was. Maybe he was some imposter or an alien. Perhaps he was pretending?

Or maybe her concussion was worse than she'd previously thought it to be. She hiccuped, unbidden.

“Shut it,” the first voice hissed. A shadow passed in front of Rachel's masked face and her lenses scrambled to accommodate for her vision. They wouldn't be of much use anyway, the world was tilting and jumping and spinning even with her propped up against the still-too-cold pillar. It wasn't as smooth as she'd thought it would've been. She was never going to underestimate pillars again. _Ever._ “The lady's awakenin’.”

A rough boot found her stomach and Rachel tried to yelp in surprise but only found it in her to groan pitifully. Her arms jolted mockingly as she tried to pull in on herself - instincts kicking into defensive–survival, where was Red when you needed her?

With fresh pain she became morbidly aware of how tighty her arms were bound. Hands barely touching she could feel her veins bulging as the hard rope stopped most of the blood circulation. Her belt and other weapons were gone. The second run-through of that thought brought a little more panic than it had the last couple of times.

_...What?_

“Oi, missy!” The second voice gripped. Rachel decided to call him Annoying. “Ya gonna fuckin’ wake up or not?”

Another sharp boot to the stomach had her gasping and spitting out blood. She stared at its blurred image silently, head tipped down from loss of strength, for a small moment as the men shared a few words over her head. She wasn't supposed to be bleeding, nothing had happened--

_The man._

The supposed magician that they'd ignored because there was no trace of him in the two days the Outlaws had been in the area. A desperate rookie move brought on by the want to go home quicker than was able (or perhaps, merely arrogance). Still, despite the rather imaginative rumours circulating about his deathly powers, Rachel found it in her to be impressed by what had happened, even if it had left her dizzy and with a concussion that her healing _wasn't_ healing. (And wasn't that _worrisome?)_

(She supposed it was her age, she  _was_ over 90.)

( _"You're nothing but a stupid, old bitch!"_ Memories taunted.)

Powers of blue, flashing lights surrounding people that were unfortunate enough to annoy him, stories of those people vanishing and never coming back; that was what they'd heard, never had she thought it would happen to them.

They'd been stupid.

So, so _stupid._

She was _so stupid._

( _"This is all_ your  _fault, Rachel!"_ )

Distacted by this new revelation, she tried to piece everything together but fell short - her memories still being fuzzy from the suddenty of it all. Her heart rate and breathing picked up in panic, going from normal to a slight hitch that assured her her throat would ache if she didn't calm down pronto.

They'd been attacking him - they, being her and Jay with Kori and Roy out cold. Jason had been pummelled into the wall, bricks cracking around him as-- what had happened then?

She had the distinct feeling the man had spoken to her, or something along those lines but she couldn't quite remember what had been--

 _("Attract all the attention you want, Nightwing."_ The hooded man smirked, and what if Rachel couldn't see his face, his tone was righteous enough for her to _know.)_

 _What?_ That didn't make sense. Her gasps for air picked up at this little sentence stopper.

Rachel's senses, nevermind her instincts, were some of the best. She could stand up to Allen's speed when she felt up to it and she could take a punch from Kent should need be. She, the Nightwing of Gotham, was _not_ taken down by a flash of light and nothing more. She was not rendered inable because of some concussion and she was _not_ weakened by a man wearing some _Game of Thrones_ getup.

Distantly the voices returned as she closed her eyes and tried to mull over what had expired after that. What had happened for them to end up _here_ of all places?

Where was  _here?_

The scenery had changed, Rachel dimly recalled. From an old Mexican bricked warehouse to a black, dull alleyway.

Perhaps the cloaked man had teleported them somewhere? The Outlaws had all discussed the rumours and assumed he had some sort of temporal and/or spatial controlling powers, time travel for example. Could blacking out and bleeding be part of some sort of side effects? The idea and possibility definitely wasn't far-fetched, the Legends were reason enough to justify that. She wondered how long it'd been and if they knew of anything yet. _Probably not._

Or maybe she was running on fumes.

But, the man's whispered last words before she'd been punched into Jason's chest: " _Attract all the attention you want, Nightwing._ "

Rachel wasn't sure if she'd imagined those words or not, because Jason hadn't really reacted other than blacking out with her following him instantly after. It could've been a hallucination but that didn't explain her-- _their_ current situation.

A pin–prick. They'd been drugged, and if Jason was possibly experiencing what she was, then this feeling of having a concussion could have been caused by the tranq. Their side–effects _were_ sometimes terrible.

A hard feeling rumbled in her chest and she suddenly felt very cold as her eyes lifted, but not her head, and by chance she spotted the rope tightly wound around her husband's wrists.

Another kick rocked her world in the bad way.

Her thoughts wandered and Rachel questioned why she hadn't yet healed. Perhaps side–effects of what ever had happened - she could've been drugged by something else, if it wasn't the tranq alone, if they had any antidelectrum left but she'd destroyed that along with the Court and then, her Remnants.

And now she was repeating herself; _great._

Her head swirled so obnoxiously even breathing hurt.

( _"Multiple ribs broken, oh God-- her back--"_ )

“Well?” The one named Annoying hissed. The boot found her in her ribs this time. “Ain't ya gonna give us a speech?”

( _"She's got multiple vertebral compression fractures."_ )

“Why'd I w'nna do tha'?” She slurred, barely able to pull her head up, even as she tried. Her neck twinged and she felt blood bubble up in her mouth again as the first man, now christened Irritating, slammed his boot down on her outspread legs. The pain was worth it though (even the later bruise that was sure to come up as she healed) because she was able to pull her head up. Even if she did probably make her concussion worse by slamming it against the pillar accidentally.

( _"Is that-- bad?"_ )

Jason was looking at her, red domino creased in something too fuzzy and far away for her to clearly make out mid-delerium. Aside from his wrists being secured to his own pillar with rope and some odd hook thing (and his upper half being pulled against the same pillar with the same rope) he seemed uninjured.

Outwardly, at least.

( _"Yes. She'll be lucky if she can ever walk again."_ )

Rachel felt sick all over again and she tired to move but found it futile as her ears popped and the world became slow. They'd bound Jason's hands out of his sight, almost laughing at how he wouldn't be able to see them. They were taunting him. No one got to taunt her husband but their family and her. That was.. that was.. unacceptable. Yes, it was.. was..

_Fuck._

Her vision was being eroded by darkness, as if she were the rabbit and it the predator. Like every good horror film where the audience felt the same fear the victim did, like... like...

Annoying crouched down in front of her, cutting off a view she'd never fully realised she had, as he grabbed her cheeks in a punishing grip and pulled her face up to sneer down at her. She didn't know why she had to look at _him._ Maybe he was secretly insecure.

She fought the urge to laugh in his face, knowing it would only make her head hurt more.

“Now you listen here, lass. We don't want no trouble, got enough of tha’ with the Batwoman on our trails, we just wanna know one thing.” He brandished her black screened bat-shaped communicator. It worked much like a burner phone only completely untraceable, leaving no records or trace of having called anyone when a call was commenced. It was one of Tim's new toys. “Why’da fuck do you have this marvel in a shitty lil’ suit like yours?”

Rachel's head hurt too much to wonder why the men focused in on _that._ She was sick of this, the jab at her suit stung, her back ached phantom pains as well as current pain and the world spun far too much. The grip on her cheeks was becoming painful.

She spat out the blood that had gathered in her mouth in Irritating’s face in what she hoped was a very defying move.

To her amusement, he snarled and furiously wiped it off, making a disgusted sound at its black colour. His hands dropped their grip on her cheeks to tighten dangerously around her neck.

She did _not_ whimper. No, Rachel didn't show her fear. Not like... like... like a  _coward._

But that was the thing, wasn't it? She was a coward.

A fucking waste of space, no good _coward._

( _"Why can't you just_ die?")

“Now, now, Crude.” The apparent boss spoke up, a chair creaking as he (possibly?) stood, striding over to them. Even in her blurred vision he looked handsome yet scrawny and way too short. “Don't hurt the poor thing, you know how Mysterio gets whenever his _playthings_ are hurt.”

A hand tapped at the forearm that belonged to the hand currently around her neck and, to her great relief, the hand let go, dropping her to slouch back against her cold, stiff pillar. She sucked in a shaky breath, quickly followed by another. She could practically feel Jason's worry emanating towards her, mingling dangerously with his anger towards the men, even if he was halfway across the room.

“Hello there,” Crude’s boss cooed as Crude grunted and walked off to the side. The man's boss crouched down in front of her and ran a fickle finger down her cheek. She shuddered, repulsed as she glared sloppily up at him. She hurt too much all over to form an insult. “Aww. Don't be like that, sweetheart, Mysterio’ll want you in one piece and it's my job to ensure that when he comes back from jumping around time, you're still alive.”

“You make it sound like the norm.” Jason snarked for her, always making up for her shortcomings.

The boss laughed, his face crinkling just slightly as his eyes became smaller. Rachel vaguely entertained the thought that if he wasn't threatening her right now, she would've thought he was a little bit handsome. She pushed that away as he grinned like an ugly hyena who'd caught its prey.

_Nevermind._

“That it is, darling.” He leered, ignoring Jason completely and acting as if she'd been the one to speak. Rachel scowled up at him in irritation. She juggled at her wrists, trying to get some feeling into them as the nerves stung like needles were being stabbed into them. The rope pulled taut, staying firm. “My boss is quite strict when it comes to things like these, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to have a little fun.”

Jason’s hackles pulled up at that, latching a dangerous glare onto the man's back. The goon's boss snickered.

“Ah, I'm afraid I haven't introduced myself yet, sweetheart, I'm Charles Holker. You can call me Charlie, though, _Beautiful.”_

( _"Goodness, what horrid eyes!"_ A woman shouted, backing away and tsking as if Rachel had a choice in the matter. It wasn't her fault her eyes turned yellow when her cortisol levels rose.)

Jason growled and at a sinister glance from Charlie, Irritating and Crude closed in on him.

"Why don't you deal with him, Crude, Leone?" Holker drawled, smugness evident in every word.

"Aye, sir," Leone hissed viciously, cracking his knuckles. Charlie rounded back on Rachel but she was stuck staring at Leone (previously nicknamed Irritating) as he pulled back his fist and readied to punch Jase.

A loud, rumbling bang from an other half of the warehouse that Rachel hadn't realised was there had all three of the men freezing. Charlie growled, frowning as he glared off at what was supposedly the door as it shook on its hinges.

"Batwoman!" Crude hissed, suddenly looking both terrified and angry. "How dare she interrupt."

"Orders, boss?" Leone asked, remarkably calmer than Crude who at this point resembled a burning furnace. Rachel was jarringly reminded slightly of Mick Rory. _Slightly._

"Kill her!" Charlie screamed as the doors flew off their hinges. They planted themselves comfortably two feet away from Leone's face, buried in the odd rough multi-grey wall. "Kill her now!"

A batarang, nothing like what Rachel knew they had back home, lurched into Charlie's face. He dropped like a rock, the batarang sticking out of his eye. Blood wasted no time in trickling out and pooling around his head.

Crude threw Leone an odd looking gun from a table behind Rachel's line of sight before they both charged, taking the fight away from their prisoners.

Rachel eyed the batarang sticking from the dead man's eye. A few seconds of painful twisting and a great show of flexibility later, she had the batarang in her hands from picking it up with her feet and twisting to the side so one of her hands could grab it. It was painful and she was sure she pulled a few muscles in her right side, if the twanging pain over there meant anything, but it was worth it. She felt oddly winded afterwards and the concerned look Jason was shooting her was getting harder to ignore.

Crude's gun slammed into a wall - and who knew they had _lazer_ guns? - with the very man himself following seconds later. The burly man's head smacked against the wall and he slumped into the nook between floor and wall like deadweight. Rachel worked the sharp edged batarang faster along the rope, forehead creasing as her chest burned and her stomach flopped. Jason seemed to know what she was doing now and was tugging at his wrists, trying to loosen the rope without tightening it irrevocably.

"We don't mean any trouble," Leone called, followed by a rumble from Batwoman and the shots of his lazer gun. Rachel's left hand rope snapped. "You can leave and we can go on our merry way--"

"Shut it, Cray." Batwoman snarled. This Batwoman was _not_ Barbara, this one sounded different - vicious in a way none of them (but Red) were. She sounded so much like Bruce Rachel had to briefly pause to steady her breathing (because the concussion made her feel sick, not otherwise. _Nope. Not at all_ ). "I know you have them."

Leone Cray was the man's name. At least, Rachel assumed that it was. The factual information helped her regain her grip on reality. If even slightly.

The rope on her right arm snapped softly and she pulled both her arms down to rub at them. They tingling was renewed from the sudden blood flowing into them. The world spun more at her sudden movement and barely she held back a whimper with a poorly concealed gasp for air.

Grunts echoed around the warehouse, which seemed to be built in an odd boomerang-shape, as the sound of a fist fight made its way towards Rachel. She pulled herself up on quivering legs, clutching at the pillar for support. She swished the batarang around meaningfully and Jason pulled his hands up and back as far as the rope would allow. She just hoped her aim stayed true.

"What? The electrozides? Sorry, not anymore! Good ol' Swither got them." Leone sounded rushed as snippets of their conversation drifted around her. Rachel imagined he'd been punched in the gut as he cut off with a particularly loud grunt. Well, she _hoped_ he had been.

She aimed the oddly smooth batarang at the rope and threw it.

It sliced through Jason's rope like a warm knife slicing through cold butter. The satisfaction was oddly prominent, even past the pain of a whirling picture frame painted world.

Jason hauled himself to his feet just as Leone screamed and a sickening crack rung lowly around the warehouse. They shared a look (one more sharp than the other) before both edging silently around their own pillars and hiding behind them.

Two seconds later sharp heels clicked across the floor towards Crude, ignoring Holker completely. Rachel watched with narrowed, blurry eyes as the woman with flowing black hair and a long, completely black cape nudged Crude. He groaned but didn't stir.

Seemingly satisfied, the woman whirled around and picked up her batarang which was still stuck in the pillar, Jason's rope nestled and hanging around it.

"I have heat sensors, you know," she said smoothly. Up close, Rachel realised just how much the woman sounded like Bruce yet not like Bruce. She sounded younger and somehow more driven. (And wow if that somehow made her a lot more scarier than before.)

Rachel scanned the place for weapons. There was the table Crude had gotten the lazer guns from, behind her, off to the right and too far away but covered withtheirweapons. They'd have to ditch them, in the hopes they could get them back - if not get better ones. (She could use her speed but she felt too out of it to even stand up straight right now never mind zip across half of the room in a desperate dash for a weapon. It was a fool's errand.)

Jason laughed, pulling both women's attention to him.

( _"You don't deserve him, whore."_ )

"Excuse us, we didn't mean anything by it." He walked out, hands raised placatingly. "We're new 'round here."

Batwoman narrowed her eyes. "Don't worry, I know."

Suddenly Jason was thrust through the barred window, glass shattering around him with sickening clarity in Rachel's ears. Jolting, Rachel rolled around the side, her only weapon being her rope and tapped into her speed (for what options did she have left?) and was behind the woman with the other still mid-step. Holding the two ends of the rope, Rachel pulled out the last of her energy, reached out and pulled it around her neck, heaving the woman back before she even had a chance to struggle. Her back screamed as phantoms shot up it, scorching and burning away her nerves 

( _"She was lucky."_ )

Batwoman gasped, back bending painfully as Rachel smashed her head down onto her knee getting an aborted twitch and a grunt from the other woman.

"That was my husband you pushed through that window, bitch." She snarled, sounding and feeling oddly sober. Lugging the rope down once more to destabilise the woman as her hands shot up to grip at it Rachel let go of the twisted wood. Using her now faltering speed to zip to Batwoman's unguarded left side, she elbowed her in the ribs. Batwoman hit the ground with a thump.

Batwoman was coughing and spluttering even as Rachel was jumping out the window, managing to pick up a groaning Jason from the adjoining alley's dumpster.

They disappeared into the shadows, glass glinting in their wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Antidelectrum for anyone that's wondering is used in my main story. It's essentially a drug, much like electrum but it's the opposite of it. Antidelectrum counteracts electrum, something in it fights with the electrum cells that electrum forms in the host (giving them the Talon powers if mixed with electricity) and causes those cells to be destroyed for a short amount of time (depending on the dose). Antidelectrum halts the Talon's healing, their super fast reflexes and other enhanced abilities.
> 
> Obviously, Rachel is not drugged with it in this but she does make a note of feeling like she has been. (If you want more info on this, read Gotham's Talon.)


	3. Shops and Alleyways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: edited but still as shitty.

 

They collapsed to their knees in a wide alleyway, shadowed by a floating highway not two hundred feet above them.

It took Jason a second to regain his bearings after being in a dumpster not five seconds ago. When he wiped away the vertigo and regained the use of his tongue he was treated with the sight of Rachel on her knees, hands grabbing at the ground as she gasped, coughing up bile.

A concussion. She'd overexerted herself using her speed, no doubt.

_Shit._

Jason dropped down beside her, wits regained enough to rub at her back with his tingling hands. Everything felt wrong; weird and blurry, even without the vertigo and his head on right. He didn't like it. He didn't like not knowing where they were. They could be in the goddamn middle of Bialya and they wouldn't have realised. All his guesses went towards Gotham though. The air was too dirty and miserable for Bialya and he hadn't seen an ounce of sand yet so that definitely ruled that out. Perhaps they'd ended up in another world? Or the future?

"Shh," he murmured, pulling her into his side as he shuffled them both to lean against one greyish wall. It was smooth and cold so he slid his arm down further around her back to bathe her in his body heat. Cold was never good for her when she was in bad form, it was partially a trigger after all. "It's okay, baby. We'll figure out what happened and get home. Don't worry, your safe. I got you."

"Concuss'n," she chocked out amidst her gasps, confirming Jason's worries. "Can't.. Back hurts--"

The cold feeling of remembrance swallowed him up.

"It's okay, Rache." He automatically went for his belt and scowled when his hand hit nothing but his trousers. They'd taken their weapons, he told himself again. That was why his jacket felt so light, it housed no guns this night.

_Ha. That rhymed._

Snapping himself back into serious mode Jason scanned Rachel. She was weaponless like him, the only thing left her domino and suit. Her cape was a tad tattered but seemed fine while the lady herself was all too pale but regaining control of her breathing, already having lifted a hand to wipe at her mouth.

They'd found out long ago that Rachel calmed down quicker in his presence, especially if they were close, body heat wise. The cold only deteriorated her form. Remnants of bad times were dredged back up. Times with the Court.

As if the devil knew what he'd thought and was repulsed by the mere mention of the bastards, a gust of cold icy wind howled down their alleyway and almost instantly Rachel froze up. Apparently even the Court wasn't welcome in hell.

Jason cursed the cold and the devil's temper under his breath as he tugged at Rache's cape and pulled the heat keeping fabric around her, attempting to keep her back straight to ease as much pain as possible. They needed to find shelter first, somewhere warm and close to some shops (to steal from) preferably, but he wasn't picky. Food and water was next on the line, with info, tech and weapons following in no specific order of importance.

_Right._ A plan, he had a plan. All he had to do was follow it and fill it in along the way.

He stood, chest still pulsing from the inhumane punch the bitch from earlier had doled out that'd sent him through a barred window. Carefully, he eased Rachel onto his back, cape tucked neatly around her, as he put his arms around her thighs. She was leaning on his back enough that she probably wouldn't fall off but the arm she wrapped around his neck lightly was more comforting than anything so far. Thank god he wasn't in this alone.

Picking one side of the alley to go out (the opposite from the one they'd entered) Jason stomped out onto a brisk, empty street, sticking to the shadows.

The street was hollow looking. Old compared to the newer slick buildings in the area they'd just been in and it was practically a ghost town. A few minutes of wandering found them outside a small abandoned shop with dirty fabrics like shirts and coats in its window. It came with a second floor.

_Perfect._

Picking the lock was easy and it came to him as quick as rage did, if not quicker. His annoyance at Batwoman was prominent and kept his chest burning with a newfound dislike. He didn't understand why she'd punched him. He hadn't been threatening with his tone or body language, had he? It made no sense, this place either. Last time he'd checked no place on Earth had highways two hundred feet up. And he wasn't sure that this _wasn't_ Earth. For all he knew they could be on some colonised planet and by pure chance the only life they'd interacted with was humane.

Jason hated not knowing. Not knowing left too much blank, too much unknown information that could get them killed. It meant they had to take risks that they didn't usually. The possibility of death was much, _much_ higher.

Too high.

Rachel was awfully silent (but understandably, he knew how much her back hurt still) as he tapped the old wooden floorboards, listening for any signs of life while trying to not make too much noise. You never knew who lurked in places like these.

Others like them, probably. Just without the 'attacked and mysteriously in a different place' situation going on. And anti-hero/hero thing (really they were stuck between the two). Homeless people; Jason meant homeless people lurked around places like this. Druggies too.

The first floor had to be walked through before the stairs became accessible. It was small yet vast - racks of everything sat at ease, still and silent in their peace. Huge softwood boards covered the entire left wall, chunky and ill-fitting. Jason avoided them and strode through the little gap that signalled an aisle before reaching a small back room. The door opened with a loud creak and spat dust at them both. Inside was the staircase, kept away from customers, and another door to the right. Rachel made no noise to signify she heard any signs of life so Jason trodded on, breath catching silently at every heartstopping crunch the stairway made.

Upstairs was small and sparsely decorated spare for the ancient looking plug-in heater that had around five inches of dust on it. Much like everything else.

There was a small table, wooden, with a couple old books keeping one of its legs up. There was a new looking (but old, judging from the dust) sewing machine perched upon it, joined by random scraps of fabric and a rough looking book that was spread open at some grey covered page. Jason didn't particularly want to touch it, the chair that sat beside the table looked okay enough and he set Rache down on that after making sure it wouldn't collapse suddenly at an input of weight, wrapping his jacket around the chair's back to try and help. The furthermost corner to the right had an odd looking black block perched in it, flanked by some kitchen tops and cupboards that mirrored the block's colour. There was no sink despite how kitchen-like the area looked. Jason avoided that corner completely.

A corner off to the left, just beside an old white framed window with a ledge, looked untouched enough by everything spidery and dusty so Jason chose that one to set up shack. A quick journey downstairs again (with Rachel sitting on the chair, insisting she'd stay upstairs) brought him the joys of finding a small bathroom with a mouldy bar of soap sitting to attention on the sink in that little room to the right of the stairs. The water ran, and it looked clean enough (he mentally promised to filter and boil it somehow before drinking any of it) so he checked water off his survival list.

The shop floor (because that's what it had been once, definitely - a shop) was thankfully covered in racks of clothes, male and female, which gave him something to work with. Jason zipped straight to the big winter coats and pulled out five of the biggest, warmest and cleanest. A brief search of the place brought up a couple checkered blankets for sale in a corner and a couple fluffy baby toys that were worthy pillows.

Upstairs he found Rachel squinting at the open book, cape still clutched around her. She'd avoided cleaning the old tomb of a thing by flipping to another page, making it look oddly mouldy from the way the page looked as if it were a perfect imitation of marsh land. 

A broom was in a cupboard in the far right corner, along with a few other cleaning supplies (likely for the bathroom and everything else) and he used that to brush out the corner he'd chosen where he then dumped all the shit he'd brought before he sweeped the rest of the floor. He settled the dust he'd collected (and Jesus was there a lot) into another corner before he set about making them a decent looking makeshift bed.

The fluffiest coats went down for a reasonably flat but comfy baselayer while the blankets got dumped on top to act like real blankets with the kid's toys acting as pillows (they were flat enough to be anyway even if a bit small). He went downstairs a couple more times for more coats and even a couple sweaters for both the bed and him and Rachel because damn this place was cold. Pitch black too, the only light they were getting was from the moonlight that shone in through both the window beside their corner and the shop front downstairs.

"That a bed?" Rachel asked eventually, sounding better than she had before both concussion and near–panic attack wise. The unnatural kink to her back meant it still hurt.

Jason offered her a quick grin. "Yep." He was about to pull his domino off but thought better of it. "Think I should take this off?"

Rachel glanced up at what he was gesturing to and made a face. "The glue'll probably wear off overnight anyway. We don't have any. It doesn't really matter."

They'd had glue in their belts. If only...

"How far did you bring us?" He asked as he pulled the domino off, ditching it in a cleaner cardboard box that sat just under the table.

"Hm?" She hummed, looking back up from the book. Her domino was still on and the lenses caught the moonlight in a way that Jason found prettier than even his guns. Rachel tended to be like that. "Oh. Around twelve blocks. Couldn't really navigate well, place is laid out weird. Got us as far as I could with my.. limited speed within the radius."

He nodded. While twelve blocks was far away people didn't tend to look for people in the general radius of where they just ran from. Most people tended to run as far as possible, and while Rachel said she'd done that, she'd still stuck to their rules of decievance. It was a pretty little sly truck they'd picked up over the years; stay within a boundary of 15 blocks, captors don't look within that if they're in a hurry. Sometimes, even geniuses, were idiots. (Yes, sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. It was part of its charm.)

"That's good. Found running water downstairs in the form of a shitty bathroom with one toilet, a sink and a mouldy bar of soap."

She made a face. "That all that's in it?"

"It's pretty small."

"Anything else downstairs?"

"Not really," he hummed, walking over to her as he settled his elbows on the back of her chair. "We could possibly use those clothes, maybe. A load of random shit too - baby toys, blankets, trinkets, all that weird shit."

"Bit of an odd shop then," Rache responded, flipping the page. The writing was too small for Jason to see from his vantage point and he was sure the only way Rachel could see it was because of her lenses.

"What ya readin'?" He asked, desperate for another topic before the silence set in.

"Tolkien; the Hobbit." She responded. "I don't understand why a book has to have such small writing."

Jason laughed, ruffling her hair as he tilted her head and peeled off the domino. "Why don't we try out my amazing coat bed then, huh? You can read it later."

Rachel snorted, even though it probably hurt her head. He wondered if her healing had kicked in yet, she _had_ been getting a bit louder which was a good sign. "What? That thing - a bed? No way." She said, despite her earlier comments.

Still, she let herself be pulled over to it willingly enough after a peck on the lips. Jason burrowed them both deep in the abyss of blankets, but not before checking her, thankfully undilated, eyes.


	4. Nyssa (McGinnis)Wayne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our first look at Batwoman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stat.: Edited.

 

Nyssa hummed a random tune as she walked down the Manor's lavish main staircase. With Bruce getting older and not caring so much - devoting more of his time to crime fighting - and with the other Manor's inhabitants moving out after the betrayal of Jason Todd, for years the Manor had remorsefully been allowed to fall into disarray. Alas, with her guiding hand she had lovingly restored the once grand family estate and home into something remotely liveable even if she had made it slightly gothic.

Twenty-five years ago, Jason Todd had went on a killing spree that had lasted five days due to a poison that Scarecrow had invented. He'd been out of control, donning the Red Hood suit and killing half the City's population. When Rachel had confronted him, he'd killed her thanks to the beserker strength the poison gave him and his rage. Days later, after the aftermath it was realised that Todd had killed Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake with no incentive inside this very Manor's halls before he'd fled to god knows where. With three of the family dead and one a traitor, the others had fallen into chaos, dropping their roles as crime fighters momentarily as they moved out, away from the house that haunted their dreams.

Alfred had died two months later and Bruce had been left alone to age. Nothing but an old man, left to take on a group of rogues (The Mutants) by himself (with the scarce help of a young girl who'd momentarily donned the cape of Robin).

Six years later, she popped up. Child of Mary McGinnis and Bruce Wayne; Nyssa McGinnis (named only that because her mother's husband was in the room). Her father was meant to be David McGinnis, her mother's husband, but a club night gone awry had her mother pregnant with Wayne's child rather than David's. David had outcast Nyssa instantly, refusing to live with Mary until she got rid of her daughter.

Still deeply in love with David, Mary had weighed her options and left her on Wayne's doorstep with nothing more than an apology on a card, her name and some scribbled words stating something along the lines of how she didn't want Nyssa.

With no other options (Nyssa knew there were others but the man had outright refused them) Bruce had taken her in, adorned her with his family name and made the world know she was his blood daughter, pulling his broken name from the ashes.

"I swear to the highest god, Ace, if you do not bring me back that remote this instant I'll fry you with the Batwing's engines!"

Nyssa laughed softly as she swirled into the living room, finding the tv stuck on an old 90s show about cats and dogs. Bruce was scowling, coffee gingerly set on the coffee table as he batglared at her poor playful dog. Ace, to Bruce's vexation, was taking the glare head on. He even had the audacity to bark happily at the sight of her.

"What are you doing, boy?" She murmured kindly, rubbing the black german shepherd's ears. Nyssa leant down and whispered conspirationally, "Annoying the old man?"

Ace barked and wagged his tail happily as Bruce glowered at her in turn. "The damned mutt has stolen my tv remote."

Nyssa smirked and raised an eyebrow at Ace. "Really, boy? I doubt it, you're much too nice, aren't you?"

Ace barked as he panted and swirved around to jump on the couch adjacent Bruce.

"No jumping on the seats!" Bruce hollered, arm raising as he shook his fist. Nyssa laughed as she patted his shoulder and sat down beside the older man.

"He's fine, leave him be."

They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence, the old tv show going on a commercial break before another show popped on.

"Oh, Jesus." She bemoaned as FRIENDS came on. "We're not watching this."

Bruce smirked annoyingly at her. "I thought you said it was fine?"

"I didn't say that for this, god - Lana started watching this when we went out in high school, Jesus it's shit."

"That's just your _opinion._ "

Nyssa scowled, "You were like twenty when this came out, I wouldn't be surprised if you sneaked it in between your ninja training."

Bruce gave her a shrewd look.

She smiled charmingly back. "Yo, Ace. Go get the remote for mommy, please."

Ace barked and scampered off into the kitchen.

"He better come back," Bruce huffed, leaning forward for his coffee.

"Of course he will."

Ace didn't come back.

Five minutes later, Nyssa sighed. Bruce was smirking at her in that annoying way he did when he knew he'd won.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You're smirking, you might as well have laughed at me."

"Perhaps I should--" GLADIS cut Bruce off with a mehanical alarm.

_Warning: temporal time disturbance located on Sixth Street, Parkoue Avenue. Life signals offline, Nightwing suit Mark XV and Red Hood suit Mark XII located._

Bruce blinked, "Rachel's XV?"

Nyssa didn't get why that was so important. She turned to the question in matter. "GLADIS, you said it was a time disturbance?"

_Indeed, Mistress._ _Time disturbances often happen whenever a participant from the past is drawn forth to our current time. Not the other way around._ GLADIS paused for a beat, as if weighing her options. Nyssa cleared her throat impatiently. _Nightwing's suit is not equipped with trackers, I am unable to trace her, nor... Red Hood._

Nyssa felt cold at the possibility of a crazy maniac running around her city. Not to mention a dead woman. "What can I do?"

"Your suit is based off the Nightwing Mark LXX, with hints of Red Robin's Mark CVI. You're the better opponent in this." Bruce butted in, grabbing his cane to stand.

_I believe Mr Wayne is insinuating that you will have to fight them_ , GLADIS said sounding cheerful in her briskness as always.

"What?" She hissed, "Why? They aren't a threat."

She may not like the idea of a maniac running around but there were easier ways to apprehend them. A quick sneak up and temporary harmless knock out, for example.

"Yet." Bruce said, "Nightwing's Mrk XV is from 2027, that's the only time she used that suit whereas Ja- Hood used the Mrk XII for three years, '27 to '29."

Nyssa didn't mention the near slip up. "So?" She asked instead, pulling herself off the couch and to her feet. The square of the living room floor around the couch and the coffee table depressed a bit as GLADIS interrupted.

_The floor is moving down, please brace yourselves._

They stopped in the Cave, the ceiling swallowing back up the couch and table as soon as they strode off the platform.

"2027 was a rough year, Rachel and Hood were with the Outlaws more and more. They grew reckless and were quick to act on instinct."

"What of it?" Nyssa asked as the robotic arms churned and picked up her suit, already applying it. "I rely on my instincts, so did you, and we're all reckless - it's in the air."

Bruce rolled his eyes as he leaned on his cane by the side. "I'm sure you know Rachel was an ex-Talon."

"For the Owls? Yeah."

"She will use that against you."

The arms clipped on her chestplate and made her turn around to face Bruce as they attached on her bullet and lazer proof cape. "I don't understand why I have to fight them."

"Because they will attack you before they realise what they're doing." Bruce said. She opened her mouth to respond but he powered on. "Hood is dangerously good with guns, old tech or not, being hit by one hurts even if your armour is bullet proof so take him out first. Rachel will protect him at all costs," He sounded bitter there but he pushed it away. Nyssa felt bad that he would have to watch her deal with his family. Though, technically, she was related to them too... "Focus on your heat and audio sensors for her as she moves quickly with or without vision. She'll hear your breathing before you even get within a twenty foot distance of her, if she's in good shape."

"You didn't answer the question," She reminded softly. The robotic arms that GLADIS controlled pulled away and offered her a tray. Her gauntlets and comm were on it, along with her smooth red utility belt.

She pulled on her gauntlets. Bruce didn't look happy. "You need to knock them out." He insisted, "I've dealt with people from the past before, they can't know the future or things get messy."

She whistled, "Breaking out the old tombs, huh, dad?"

Bruce's face softened minutely before he sat in the spinny chair and turned away. Nyssa rolled her eyes as she clipped on her belt and pushed her comm into her ear before pulling up the cowl, allowing her (rather short) hair the privilege of flowing out the back.

Striding over to the Batmobile she buckled herself in before pulling the top down.

"Be safe." Bruce's gruff voice echoed in the empty cave.

She smiled and checked her visual to make sure Bruce had a live feed from her lenses. After making sure her comm was working, Nyssa flicked up the 'mobile's controls and hit the button for the roundtable.

"Always am, dad."

Bruce totally didn't snort.

She hit the accelerator.

 

-/-/-

 

GLADIS may not've been able to track Nightwing or Red Hood but she was able to trace where they'd landed thanks to whatever had brought them to 2059 and further trace that energy signature (which would only be traceable for another five minutes) to wherever they'd went because they definitely weren't in the alley they'd been dropped off at. She'd checked. Painstakingly enough.

//Sharp left in 0.1 mile, Batwoman.\\\

Nyssa snorted as she took the left. "You could just say 'take a left now' instead of all your 0.1 shit, B."

"Language and where's the fun in that? It's amusing watching you get lost or miss a turn."

Nyssa huffed out a laugh as the tracker bleeped at the sight of an old dingy warehouse in the shipping district. It dated back to around 2032, when Neo-Gotham had just begun getting up with the tech.

The double doors were rusted and easy to break off by the look of them, other pictures, blueprints and articles popped up on the Batmobile's holographic screen.

The rough black walled warehouse belonged to no one, it's most recent company having went bankrupt in 2047. Perfect for gangs, especially those in the area. The _Tedium Vitae_ had been lurking around this district last she'd checked - a gang, who despite stating they loathed life, adored messing with it.

There were no guards. Concerning yet not so much. It gave her three options to go off; the gang was low on numbers, the guards were hiding, or there was no gang here at all and the energy sig. was fake and so were the five distinct heat signatures. The _Tedium Vitae_ _did_ love derelict buildings and this had their stamp all over it.

Nyssa jumped out of the Batmobile, setting it to hover before camouflaging it with the dynamic scene replication projectors (meaning it was invisible). She hummed at the building.

"You seeing what I'm seeing?" She asked.

//Indeed.\\\ Bruce responded instantly. //Be on your guard, the _Tedium Vitae_ are known to be cruel when they want.\\\

"I know," she hummed already moving to begin punching it down with the help of her suit. "I've got the files, and the morgue reports. I don't need any more incentive."

//Good.\\\ Bruce said and left it at that as the metal doors buckled from the strength the suit put into her punches. The second punch had it running off its hinges, whooshing into the far wall mere feet from a skinny black haired man's head.

"-ill her now!" She caught the end of a man's - presumably the boss - sentence. Facial rec. brought him up as Charles Holker, murderer, charged for B&E, robbery, and a list of other things. Goddamn, his criminal record was longer than the curtains on her four poster bed. She added being a head honcho for a gang to that list.

He got a batarang to the face (thanks to her brilliant aim) before she'd even fully entered the place. His body dropped with a thud that was instantly muted by two sets of stomping footsteps.

She strode completely into the warehouse, a bend in the warehouse design had her going in blind, thankfully facial recognition and heat sensors immediately picked up the slack and placed tracking locks on the two who rushed her, allowing her to follow their heat signatures. Leone Cray and Barton Crude. Both ex-convicts and both with a hefty list of crimes that they were still wanted for.

//Quite the rough bunch, these ones.\\\ Bruce muttered.

"Tell me about it," She hissed back, dropping into a fighting position.

Crude rushed forward first, roaring as he came in close and swiped at her with his fists despite the lazer gun he clutched in one hand. The man was large at six foot two and muscular. Nyssa kept her face clear as she ducked from the punches, bringing up a quick foot to boot away the man's gun.

He growled as it smashed against the wall. Cray fired a few lazer shots which ricocheted off the walls and hit the floor uselessly. A suit powered punch had Crude flung into the wall, his head hitting against it harshly as he went limp.

Cray frowned, keeping his distance as he fired off a few shots. Two missed but the third hit her chestplate head on. She didn't even blink but she was sure her vitals jumped, even if she didn't outwardly.

//Aren't you glad that's lazer proof.\\\ Bruce snarked right on cue.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." She growled quietly for his ears only. Cray stalked forward and opened his mouth.

"We don't mean any trouble," He called, even as he fired at her again. He offered a brittle smirk. Nyssa realised why she didn't like these types of men - they were cowards and always tried to save their own asses, no one elses. "You can leave and we can go on our merry way--"

"Shut it, Cray." She growled, letting her voice rumble as it washed over the darkened walls of the gigantic warehouse. Even old it was big. She had to hold some respect for old things or else she wouldn't still be living with her dad. "I know you have them."

Cray made a face and when he spoke he sounded rushed, maybe because she was advancing on him. "What? The electrozides? Sorry, not anymore! Good ol' Swither got them."

Nyssa hadn't even been aware they had electrozides and judging from Bruce's surprised grunt he hadn't either. She pulled him down into a stumble with a batarang hitting the heel of his foot (because she was just that good - it totally wasn't thanks to target lock, _nope)_ before she pushed him back with a brutal roundhouse. He grunted loudly as she smirked.

Electrozides were little capsules of some very powerful drugs. They made humans loose the will to fear the things they normally would and had upped the death rates for all Citys involved in the huge scandal by at least twenty-five percent. The fact that Swither - an old bastard of a drug dealer and a gang boss on top of that - had them meant she'd be forced to pull a few all-nighters to hunt them down before they started making their way onto the streets. She wouldn't let Gotham fall to inhumanity.

Not after 2034.

Never again.

Cray went to rush her but Nyssa caught his fist by the wrist and snapped it back. His scream echoed. Bruce's grunt of approval was all she needed to twist it again.

With Cray down for the count, unconscious like the wuss he was, Nyssa kept her breathing and gait steady and calm as the sound of her heels clicking filled the stale warehouse air. Two glowing bodies moved behind two adjacent pillars that the previous owners had probably thought nice when they'd put them in. Nyssa seen it as a structural engineering flaw. But then, she seen a lot of things as a flaw or failure. (Like Father, like Daughter.) It didn't help that she'd done a masters in engineering.

A poke to Crude had him labelled as also out for the count as he didn't even stir at the nudge.

"I have heat sensors, you know." She remarked, amused at how the two bodies shifted uncomfortably for the seventh time in seconds. The body on the left was too close to a table piled high with weapons for Nyssa's liking. She'd have to keep an eye on that.

"We don't mean any harm," A man called as he walked out, arms raised. He smirked. His domino was painfully familiar in a way that made her blood boil. "We're new in town, you see-"

_A family left to rot. Three dead. The rest left to mourn._

_His fault._

_Jason Todd_ _'s fault._

**Jason** **Todd.**

//Dear god...\\\ That was all it took. One little, near strangled whisper from her dad and she lost control. All the pent up anger she'd collected at hearing the stories, all the anguish and all the fear she felt, she expelled. In one sharp movement that had her whole plan crumbling around her.

He didn't even get to finish before Nyssa was reacting, instincts screaming as she punched him in the gut. In seconds all Nyssa could see was him flying out the window. Before realisation and then panic could set in, she was being strangled, a vicious threat snarled in one ear with Bruce screaming orders in the other. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe, god no she didn't want to go out this way-

//Rope, Nyssa. It's only rope! Knock out of it!\\\ Bruce screamed in one ear as she gasped. Nyssa hooked her hands around the rope on automatic, pulling at it-- an elbow in her gut, _can't breathe,_ a kick when she's down, nothing but air... Blackness.

(Her suit had shut down to save her, hardening out to open her airways.)

"Reboot!" Her scream echoed, the clang of metal hitting the ground clicked noisily and shrewdly as she stumbled, despite her suit not being metal. She pulled herself to her feet, suit already rebooting as she yanked the rope away from her neck.

Rachel had tried to kill her.

Kill her.

Her sister by name.

Nyssa couldn't help it, she was far past the point of rationality. t

She saw red.

The window sill was barreled through with ease. Lights pinged on her HUD, showing possible routes and live traffic reports courtesy of Bruce. Puddles splashed up around her legs and lashed at her cape as she sprinted through the alleyways. The time travel residue had worn off, meaning the tracker was useless. There was five routes they could've taken, the one she was currently running down was the closest and most likely one to have had a couple of time travelers sprint through it seconds ago.

"Any odd heat sigs, B?" She asked, jumping over a dumpster only to nearly collide with a random junkie. The man let out a high pitched scream and fainted as she charged by.

She decided to change her tactics. A grapple took her to the nearest building's roof where she notched up the speed with no obstacles.

//She moved them both too quickly for heat sensors to follow them the entire way, stats lost them around 9th Street.\\\

"9th is eight blocks away. How did she-?" She jumped over an alley.

//Rachel was always quick. She could rival Allen if she felt like it.\\\

"Wow, wow." Nyssa spluttered, eyes widening as she pushed on. It started spitting miserably. "Wait, what? She could rival Wally?"

//She could best him.\\\ Bruce said, keys clacking in the background. GLADIS chimed something that she missed. //Rachel was parallel with Barry.\\\

"Shit. Holy fuck." She admitted. That was impressive. "Wally hasn't beaten his old man's record yet, has he?"

//Language. Not yet. He's still a couple miles off. Last time I checked, only 50.\\\

"That means 'Wing could break the speed barrier. Could she time travel possibly by herself?" She inquired. The rain got heavier as she touched down on the corner of 8th. People hustled below, running for shelter from the rain. Nyssa ignored it in favour of focusing in on her ear piece.

//Not time travel. That's something only speedsters can do naturally. Otherwise you'd need a time ship.\\\ Bruce dismissed the idea that was churning in her brain. //But break the speed barrier? Yes. Rachel didn't let her speed drop after the events of 2018.\\\

Nyssa understood. 2018 had been a rough year in the Wayne family history, namely Barbatos.

_GLADIS patching in,_ GLADIS hummed, startling Nyssa out of her reverie. _The rain is due to get heavier, Mistress. My computers can only track heat signatures from miles away for so long._

She didn't want to give up yet. She couldn't. Not yet.

"I could--"

//Swither has electrozides, Batwoman.\\\ Bruce interrupted in his _no_ _nonsense_ voice. //Come back to base, we need to get a hold of this situation before it happens. Commissioner Gordon has already been informed.\\\

"Hey, hold up-" She started.

//Get the weapons from the warehouse. They might be able to help, somehow.\\\

_As_ _if_ , she thought.

//Come home, Nyssa.\\\ Bruce pleaded one final time.

"Fine." Things couldn't get any worse anyway. The City had cameras everywhere, even if Nightwing and Red Hood were on the down-low, they'd spot them. They were in no rush.

They had time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels a bit rough and is sort of filler-ish but I needed to get this out there. I feel the info in this is like a building block. It's necessary. 
> 
> Thanks to Ben for continually reminding me someone was reading this.
> 
> On a side note: As far as I'm concerned, I made up electrozides.


	5. Darkness Lurks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just who is this C'vargén?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a short teaser for what's to come.

The wind lashed around the barren warehouse's walls creating a cacophony of wailing sounds that would make any grown man shit his pants. Inside, it was dark and untouched. Dust lined the shelves that had once housed a shops ware, now only housing cockroaches and rats.

A shadow moved in the far leftern corner before a small slab of metal, the same colour and texture as the black walls, fell off a vent cover. The vent cover followed soon after as the cocroaches froze. A long spindly thing, huge like a tiger yet sly like a snake crawled out of the vent, its four metal legs glinting in the moon light that whispered through the ragged curtains. Its body small like a bug with legs like ladders, it clutched something a few feet off the ground with a few extra legs.

The shadow moved, hand raising and chest heaving like it was laughing before the mechanical spider dropped a human sized body bag in the centre of the abandoned warehouse.

The shadow walked into the open, becoming a man with one glowing blue eye and a lengthy cloak fastened neatly around his body. His black boots clacked against the cemented ground and his cloak's ends slid over the dusty surface seamlessly.

"Such a shame you had to die," the man murmured, crouching down just enough to reach out a gloved hand and pull down the zipper. Inside, it revealed, a blue-ing, dead Charles Holker. "you were quite the worker, Charles."

A wicked smirk slid over the mysterious man's face as he pulled back his hand and delved into his cloak.

"What a good thing it is that I know where Constantine was a few days ago." He pulled out a dirt ladden human skull. "You should be happy he doesn't notice this missing any time soon."

_"Veni, spiritus. Surge a mortuis, nam ab inferno trahere. Aliquando plus parte stare in conspectu meo viam meam ego ueri uana feror."_ Shadows swirled around both men as the man laid a gloved finger on Holker's forehead. His smirk turned sharp and horrific before Holker's eyes opened, glowing a fierce red for a mere second. _"Et c_ _um ultra resistere vivunt, usque aspicientis animam tuam."_

The shadows gained faces and screamed for a few shocked seconds, mouths hollowing out into vast tornados blowing back the mans hood and ripping at the body bag and cloak.

Holker blinked and everything vanished. The mysterious man cleared his throat, his brown hair just visible by the light. His face was at just the angle where no light could shine. He pulled his hood back up as Holker sat up, looking at his bare arms.

"Wh-What happened?"

"Resurrection. Only lasts five minutes so squeal."

"C'vargén, please--"

"Excuse me?" Holker's eyes widened in horror before he scrambled to correct himself.

"Sir, right, sorry sir."

"Better." The man, C'vargén, stood up to his full height of 6'2. "Continue."

"We had them," Holker stuttered, his calm demeanour gone from when he'd spoken to Rachel. Now, all he showed was fearful respect and a rushed apologetic tone. "Right in our grasp. Then Batwoman showed up, she fucked us over all right, damn bitch. Swooped in like she owned the place, fucking killed me with that Batarang-"

As if realising his own words, Holker's hands shot up to his closed eye.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." C'vargén said. His advice went unheard.

Holker peeled open his eyelid and screamed when he found nothing there. A drop of blood dripped out onto the ground, quickly becoming congealed due to mingling with the dust. Separated from the revived body it turned brown and shrivelled. C'vargen scowled at the man's horror and booted him in the side.

Holker gasped, his only eye racing up to glare accusingly at his boss. "Hey!"

The blue see-through bubble shimmered around C'vargén for a split second as he narrowed his eyes. Holker stopped glaring instantly, looking away.

"Continue." C'vargén growled, impatience wavering his tone. "We only have five minutes, three and half of which you've wasted."

"Had them," Holker said once again, this time lower and almost trance-like. "We had them. Batwoman. Batwom'n- she--"

"Yes. So you said," C'vargén interrupted. "Recite the bit after that."

"Escaped. Saw- no. Didn't. Was dead. Think.. think they got away. Bats chased but... but..."

"You don't think she got them." C'vargén filled in, sighing as he brought a hand to his face. "Leone also spilled about the deal between Swither about the 'Zides."

"He did?" Holker was sagging now, eye lidded as he gained a dopey expression. "Ah, well he never was one for... f'r pressure. C'vargén, I'm slippin'.. please.. my girl. Tell her.. tell her I love her."

"Rest assured, I will." C'vargén said, nodding one last time as his old friend dropped back, head smashing loudly off the back of the body bag as he hit the floor. "...Rest assured, I will."

The skull shook, shadows swirled for a brief second and a black smoke rose from Holker's nostrils and ears. His mouth opened one last time to release his spirit back into the skull. Upon contact, the skull shattered.

C'vargén stood there in silence for a moment before he spoke aloud to no-one in particular.

"Revenge will come upon us soon. We just have to wait. You'll be a hero back in 2261, as we all will be. _Soon_."

C'vargén slipped back into the shadows, his mechanical spider squeaking as it clunkered back into the vent, leaving scratches in the wall from where it dug into to climb up it.

Seconds later, a bottle of alcohol smashed in through a cracked window. A match followed soon after. Men hollered as the building went up in flames.

Outside on the opposite rooftop, C'vargén nodded to a scruffy man who led the Tedium Vitae.

"Indeed." C'vargén whispered, his only audience the metal spider that swooped down behind him obediently. "Revenge will be ours. Carla, ready the jump ship. It seems we've got some hunting to do."

"Very well, sir. May I ask for a destination?" A feminine voice hummed from a little hidden speaker on the spider's body.

"The Temporal Zone while I figure things out. The birds will appear soon enough."

"Of course, Master C'vargén." The pair disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C'vargén is a name and I honestly don't know if it's real. I pieced it together from nothing and as far as I am concerned, it means nothing. (Pronounced Car-varg-in OR K-varg-n)


	6. Timeless Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter newspapers and nightmares are what Jason has to deal with.

 

  
Jason jumped over a downed trashcan, heart thumping in his ears. He was _panicked--_ no, _agitated-- worried._

He didn't know how he felt. All he knew was that they were in some deep shit right now.

Fucking 2068.

Everyone they knew was probably dead. Dead, like them, only they weren't because they were here, running through the streets (well, Jason was, Rachel wasn't because her back simply _loved_ playing up at the worst of times). Anyway, basically they were in the future with no known allies.

Great.

_Absolutely great._

And there was a god damn Barbara–Batwoman reincarnate running about this Gotham's (who even named a City _Neo-Gotham?_ ) skyscrapers, intent for their blood. Or maybe just his, she hadn't actively tried to kill Rachel, after all.

Still, no allies and one threat along with some possible fucking man out for them at least fourty years in the past.

Did he mention they were in _2068?_

Jesus fucking Christ, they were dead.

He didn't know how they were  _still alive_ , to be honest.

Jason ducked into another shadowed alley, steering clear of any and all cameras. He had to admit, 41 fuckin' years later and Gotham still held her basic layabout. It was nice, _sentimental_ almost.

He neared the row of abandoned shops which they took refuge in and sucked in a deep breath, holding the newspaper (the source of his information, complete with moving Harry Potter pictures and all) tighter in his already clenched and aching fist. The old paint peeling shop door couldn't have came quicker, he was barreling through it in seconds, uncaring as to what or whom he disturbed.

"Rachel," he panted, holding up his hands to keep his injured and worried wife at bay while he caught his breath. Seconds later he was still lost for breath so he gave in and shoved the newspaper at her.

He watched and time seemed to thicken and slow as Rachel squinted at the oddly textured paper booklet. Silently she pushed her hair out of her eyes and shifted closer to the window for light. Jason reminded himself to search for glasses next time he went out for recon. Maybe some decent scissors too.

A moment passed before his girl's eyes landed on the date and she blinked, head shooting up to give him a disbelieving, worried look.

"2068?"

She sounded so small.

If he'd had a heart, his heartstrings would've tugged. As it was, his chest ached.

"Yeah," he said, carefully tugging her close. Rachel didn't like time passing without her knowing about it on a normal level. Jason couldn't even start to think what this felt like.

Or maybe he could because it was just like his need to know where everyone was, what was happening and what they were doing next. They were alike in that way - old memories influenced them, their past experiences had changed them.

Nonetheless, their current situation wasn't pleasing.

Not in the _slightest._

"Wha- we have to contact someone." She offered instantly, stressed yellow eyes catching and glinting in the midday sunbeams that glared through the musty window. "Anyone. Bruce. No, Barbara - she might be.. She should only be sixty odd. Right?"

"Yeah but think about it. She's probably dead." Rachel fell sickeningly silent at that, eyes shimmering. "I say we disguise oursel's, get to a library or somethin' an' fin' out what the hell's happened while we weren't here."

"You think it's a Paradox, Jay?" Rache asked, slim fingers pulling at her stolen blouse's buttons nervously. "Like one where we've lived through this and we're just here - forcefully, as in time travel, or one where we vanished from the stream when we got moved?"

He paused, "I don't know. We have a plan, though and we'll stick to that until we find out more. Okay, honey?"

"Yeah," she seemed calmer now. "Yeah. Okay."

_Tomorrow._

Tomorrow they'd go out as different people and they'd find out what the fuck had happened. Maybe a little visit to someone high up, someone who could give them a boost.

"Hey, I found a pretty good diner in the shady part o' town that accepts this time's 'old money'. Maybe we could use what's left in that till?"

 

 

-/-/-

 

 

"Please, Jason." Rachel was saying. "Please don't let me fall."

"Of course I won't, baby." He smiled, his response almost automatic. Jason felt happy. Happier than he had been in years. The weight of the Lazarus Pit was gone from his bones, as well as the scars that lined his body. His hands were smooth and un-calloused while he felt free.

 _Freer_ than he ever had been.

"Oh, I know that." Rachel leaned in, arms looping around Jason's neck as she smiled up at him beautifully. She tipped his head to whisper in his ear. "It's what follows that I fear."

Jason's brow scrunched up in confusion. "What..?"

Suddenly, the ground opened up underneath them and they were free-falling.

Rachel was smiling.

Jason wasn't.

They were dumped on a tiled church's floor. It was old, with bolted down pews and stained glass adorning every window available. The ground was covered in dust and the pews sat rotten with mold. Cockraches the size of rats scrabbled over the walls while the tapestrys on the walls swayed in the breeze from cracks in both the windows and the stone walls.

A man, draped in black, stood at the altar, murmuring something under his breath with his head bowed.

Jason stumbled as Rachel strode by him. No longer wearing what she had been from earlier but now adorning a tattered Nightwing suit, swathed in black congealed blood.

Her heels left lines of fresh blood on the curling carpet that held centerplace in the aisle while her cape barely reached the ground anymore. It had multiple little holes in it.

Like she'd been shot.

Jason walked forward, heart pounding, but was stopped by an invisible wall. Rachel walked on, unhindered as she stopped in front of the man.

Jason wanted to shout, he wanted to scream, to do anything, as the man paused in his mutterings and looked Rachel up and down.

Only when the man took her by the hand and led her along to the space in front of the altar with a long jagged blade clutched in his grip, did Jason start shouting.

He banged on the invisible wall, shouting louder as all it did was ripple. Something was wrong here and it seemed like Rachel couldn't hear him no matter how loud he screamed.

A button was hit and the floor opened up mechanically, sliding apart in a way that seemed so odd in an old building like this it practically screamed wrong. There was a pool. A baptismal pool if his brief knowledge of such things was correct.

_What the fuck?_

He punched the wall.

Nothing.

He kicked it.

Nothing.

He shoulder rammed it.

Again, nothing.

He reached for his guns and realised he wasn't in his suit. He wore a red chequered flannel and a pair of blue jeans. No guns. No blades. Nothing.

"God fucking damnit!" He screamed, slamming his forehead into the wall as he slammed his fist into it in anguish. He was helpless. He could do nothing.

He looked back up in time to see Rachel get in the pool.

This wasn't right. It made no sense.

Neither he nor Rache were religious. They had no time or mind for that sort of stuff, not when they travelled around killing people. Not when they had people to worry about back home.

_Bullshit._

_What fucking bullshit,_  he thought. Here he was, not twelve steps away from Rachel and there was a wall between them.

The man was chanting.

He was chanting in Latin.

Jason knew some Latin.

"--gratias tibi. May death be  _in_  us  _quia_ we have sinned! May our mother's  _qui_ and may they  _clamo nominibus daemonum,_ _qui_ call on us. May the sinner  _ante_ us  _reddi!_ May he  _reddi_ in  _divitias diaboli_ and may he pay in his  _sanctum_  or  _sanilus_."

Well. He wasn't quite sure on what to make of that. Admittedly, his skills weren't the best. He was far better at  _e_ _spañol_. Catherine had been good at  _español_.

"Jason!" The scream broke him out of his worries and suddenly the floor opened up and he fell.

Jason shot upright in their little coat bed, jostling Rachel into a bad enough position that she too woke up. Sweat was dripping off him, he was panting. He felt like he'd died again.

"Jason, sweetie, what's wrong?" Rachel sounded worried. "Jason? Honey?"

Jason ignored her until her hands wound themselves around his biciep and squeezed.

"You're dead." He muttered and the widening of Rachel's eyes was almost comical.

"Funny, hotshot," she splayed her hands along his chest to show she was getting closer and after a second she snuggled up in his arms. "See? Can you feel me, yeah? And see me, Jase? I can see and feel you, huh babe? I'm right here, always have and will be."

"You're not real," he said, stuttering back as he pushed her out of his arms. The moonlight shone in through their tattered, moth eaten curtains and sprinkled its love over the myrad of scars that were revealed as the blankets fell from Rachel's body. Her back cracked and she took a sharp breath of air, a pained noise making its way up from her throat.

Only then did he pause.

Rachel shivered in the chilly air of the room. Still, she sat there, otherwise unmoving as he regained his wits. They knew each other well enough to just know what to do and when to do it.

His eyes traced the never-ending tormenting lines of reminders that littered his wife's body, the cool musty air helped him focus as his hands reached out and traced the one just at the ending of her ribcage.

"I'm sorry, baby." Rachel hummed in acceptance.

He released a breath of air he didn't know he'd taken. Jason dropped back into the maze of splayed coats and makeshift pillows with a defeated sigh. He kept his eyes open, letting his arms drop back down.

"You better now?" Rachel asked as she crawled over, not in the slightest bit hesitant to burrow herself back beside him under the blankets. Jason was at least thankful she knew not to ask him if he was 'alright'.

They both knew the answer to that, for each other.

"A bit." He ground out, throat horribly dry. There was no water. Running water in the early hours of morning or late night in an abandoned building was suspicious. It could get them caught. Jason wasn't going to risk it.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." Rachel gently plopped her head on his bicep, weary of her back, as he folded his hands behind his head.

"You sure 'bout that?" She hummed, tone dripping with jest. She meant it in no harmful way, it was just one of her persuasion tactics.

And it worked, if only slightly.

"You died." He admitted, horrible images already flashing. He was sure she died. He just hadn't seen it happen.

"I gathered that, yes." Rachel murmured, voice dropping so it felt like they were back home. In the Mansion's attic, floors away from the pesky brats they called siblings and a father. For a second, Jason felt he could disillusion himself enough in his lady's voice to think they were back there, lazing in bed after a particularly gruesome night. A coat zipper digging into his side broke the dream.

"Jay?" Rachel's voice was even quieter this time, almost like a soft ending echo. She was falling asleep again.

"Hm?" He slurred, dropping back into the world of awareness fully as he bathed in the familiar scent of Rachel, the choppy scent of apples and warm, smooth honey. He'd think about the nightmare later. Right now Jason had Rachel. That was all he needed.

"You sure you don't-?" Her soft fingers slid over his abs and fell lax.

"Yeah." His head lolled possessively over Rachel's as she fell asleep.

Jason didn't dare close his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of dodgy Latin in this, please don't pay it much attention. Thank you.


	7. GCPD and the Desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knows how much you'll learn at a library?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All chapters up to this point: edited. (Got lazy there and forgot to mark that, lmao.)

 

 

The cold wind chipped at his bones like an axe cutting through wood, Jason tugged the pilfered coat tighter to himself as he stared up at the matte black building.

It'd been done up in the last thirty years and Jason somehow found that disconcerting. In his head still sat the image of a 2 story plastered brick building with a huge sign out the front. Now he seen a skyscraper with windows that were unseen and those glass opaque doors that were X-Shaped from above and spun on a table thing.

He felt left behind; _o_ _ld._

The doors were nice, with propaganda and random posters plastered over them and Jason spared them a stern glance as he walked around the spin table.

Inside the carpet was lavish and the room, with its hubbub, seemed like a 3D replication of Wayne Enterprises' reception, or the one from 40 plus years ago. No-one noticed him at first and Jason used these first few seconds to scan everything.

To the left sat a few cosy light grey couches, huddled around stunning coffee tables. A few people sat in them, heads bowed as their eyes flickered between laptops and their coffee cups in hand.

To the right sat a stair well, long and proud. It sat in the middle flaunting a shinning black metal that Jason couldn't care less for, nevermind name.

A glance up brought a sort of weird sight of a cut out of the middle of the ceiling, it showed the many floors above, all edges decorated with railings the same metal as the stairwell, green potted plants flaunted at every angle. Jason wondered if anyone had hung themselves from those railings yet. People hustled about like their clothes were on fire and Jason noted how these people at least seemed busy, unlike the PD back in his time.

It felt weird.

Jason strode up to the petite woman in reception and offered her a shadowed smile. She stared for a few seconds before an uneasy smile was plastered over her face. "How can I help you, sir?"

"I'm here to see the Commish," he said, trying to be as nice sounding as possible.

"Oh," the woman -  _Sintha_ , according to her nametag - stumbled about her words. "Well, uh-- do you have an appointment?"

"I'm an old friend," Jason said simply and left it at that.

"Right," Sintha seemed frazzled, her eyes roving over her paper-thin almost translucent computer screen like someone had died in front of her. Jason wondered why. "Well, I can schedule a- an appointment for tomorrow, if you like?"

That wouldn't do. "I need it today."

"Uh--"

"Can I help you, Sintha?" A woman's voice floated down from a pedestal on the stairs. Jason blinked and realised the chatter if the room had died down to an almost silent murmur. He glanced up.

"O-- of course not, ma'am," Sintha said but Jason blocked the rest of the conversation out.

The woman on the stairs had pepper hair, dazzled with enough salt that it made her look older in a menacing way. Crows feet echoed around her eyes and her mouth was creased in a frown that Duke would've squealed at in fear had he came in contact with it. She wore a pair of black trousers and a blouse with a navy sweater over it, a dull mustard trench coat covering most of it. Jason was taken aback at something else through, not the fact that she looked so like Jim, but the fact her eyes glinted a steely green even behind her half rimmed glasses.

Barbara.

Barbara was the Commissioner.

God fucking damn that year old article was right.

"Babs!" He grinned up at her and got nothing more than a suspicious frown. He didn't understand why. "Long time no see, huh?"

"Come," was all she said as she turned in a tidal wave of cold, frozen emotion.

Jason followed her up to her office.

 

 

-/-/-

 

 

Damian had never been good at words. He'd never needed them, not since his early years. Words since then had twisted, meanings becoming duller and stretched thin as people over and under used them. Asides, words were never the same for him, not after 2035.

Damian had left that wretched house as soon as he was able. He'd left the suit he so loved behind (after too much thought to be healthy) and he'd walked right up to his mother and pushed the blade she'd gifted him for his tenth birthday right through her throat. Damian took up the title of Al Ghul and for a while, everything was alright.

Until now.

Because really, when you hold your elder sister's cold, dead corpse in your arms you don't expect her to show up again, whole, twenty-five years later, right on your doorstep.

No, Damian knew that never happened. Even if it wasn't ment to happen in the first place. But it had, thus he was under siege. Under siege from someone who had the technology to make something look like Rachel.

Because his sister was _dead._

Such decievance was forbidden in his lands. He wouldn't stand for treachery.

"Send your team, A'nai," he ordered the woman closest to him. She was head of defense-offense. While she knew her stuff, her team knew how to kill and protect. Just what they needed at this time.

"Of course, majesty." Said the woman, making a quick slashing movement that had fifteen shadows disappearing from the great hall.

Damian wasn't about to loose his land. Not here, not today.

Not on Rachel's birthday.

Six minutes later news came in the form of an update: the east wing was breached as it had been where the thing had entered and in the less than ten minutes it had been in the palace it'd taken both corridors leading around the buildings and the main entrance.

The Al Ghul palace was built oddly, by Ra's about six centuries ago, hence why it was odd.

The main building was the largest, sand ashen and tall it towered like a god and was the most obvious of the grounds. Around it circled four buildings, all at the four main navigational points. To the North was the entrance building, where most infiltrators died due to the criss-cross of traps. The North building, like the other three, was connected to the two other navigational buildings closest to it with long, wide hallways that expanded off into rooms underground if you found the right torch to pull at certain points.

The East and West buildings were armourys, disguised as kitchens and living areas for 'staff'. In reality, the assassins hung about the kitchens the most, hoping to get to the marshmallows in the far corner cabnets. Finally, the South building was not particularly important, with a rather lavish green food-dyed jacuzzi in it. One would be surprised at how many people came out of the building skin dyed green.

Everything else was underground. Correction, everything _important_ was underground.

The Lazarus Pit was the furthest down below, only accessible through a small doorway hidden in an alcove within the main palace building. Flanking that was Damian’s true bedrooms, with decoys in the ones in the main building (his squad leaders slept around up there, with their teams, no one else) and alongside Damian's bedrooms, down the stone corridors, through a few mazes and whatnot, traps and the like, was his armoury and living quarters. Accessible from his quarters from a door, of course, but the traps made it fun for anyone who tried to get by them if they even made it that far down.

Damian didn't dare doubt someone _couldn't_ get down there.

Not all organisations were as secure as the master believed sometimes.

He supposed the paranoia of the Bat had rubbed off on him. He also wasn't going to give people the chance to ruin his legacy, not like Todd did to his father.

"They've breached the four main rooms, your highness!" A messenger called, yellow eyes just visible from the slit in his mask. "It is only one!"

"One person?" Someone muttered.

"How did only one do this?" Someone else.

"We must take greater action, sir," one of his generals called.

"Yes," a lieutenant agreed. "We could send out the mainstream resistance. Perhaps they will fair better than the de-of?"

"Or we could-"

"Are you insinuating my team are not-"

"I say we-"

"What if we deployed-"

Damian tuned it out. One person. One fake could not do this. One imposter could not send his army into _disarray._

No one could match Rachel's strength so... _well._

Unless...

"SILENCE!" He boomed and the hall fell as silent as Gotham in late winter. "What did they fight with?"

The messenger squirmed, "Stole katanas from two downed men, sir."

"Perhaps Deathstroke is back?" Someone asked and suddenly the hall rippled with fear.

Deathstroke had gotten in tweleve years ago, determined on revenge. It'd taken the combined efforts of Batwoman, the League of Assassins and Batman to kill him.

No, Damian thought. He'd watched that man fall into that volcano, he'd watched as the lava swallowed him up, had listened as he screamed. Plus this intruder was female.

"Deathstroke is dead." He said and didn't allow anyone else to speak. They fell silent for him anyway, even as he stood. "You claimed it looked like Rachel Wayne?"

The messenger nodded quickly, "Indeed sir, even had the eyes."

"Oh?" That was interesting and yet at the same time it put rocks into Damian’s gut. She'd had no eyes when she'd died, Todd had made sure of that.

He crossed any and all resurrection off the list. No one who was brought back by the pit barreled in through the East wing's building anyway as the closest building and only way out was the main building, and the Pit was the only one that gave the dead their limbs and organs back. This Rachel was on the surface and hadn't gotten to the Pit yet, yet she was healed.

A thought ran across his mind and Damian took a moment to wonder if Bruce calling _him_  (in reality, Gordon had been called and Damian had tapped into the call), saying a _much younger_ Todd was on the loose had anything to do with this.

Time Travel perhaps?

How interesting.

"Blue eyes, sir," the messenger babbled on. "Sky blue like the stories say, got a sprinkle of red in them - they say that's her rage - and that yellow was nowhere to be seen. I think, if it's fake, it's either just a really good copy or she isn't fake."

That was all Damian needed to hear.

He strode down off the podium, slinging his sheath onto his back. His hip attachement was already on. "Where was she last spotted?"

The messenger paused, listening in for conversation. That was why Damian had hired him, an ex-Talon with no want for fight. But with excellent hearing and super fast reflexes. Damian didn't doubt the man could zip around the entire complex in a second and see everything. Presently, he listened for footsteps.

"She's coming here sir, from the West corridor. She doesn't seem to be in a rush."

"Very well," he said and was inches away from the door when the messenger called after him.

"Her heatbeat isn't on the same frequency as ours, sir."

Damian grinned as the door slammed shut. He'd found himself a time traveller.

And it was Rachel, too.


	8. Comical Commissioner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out Babs isn't as calm and collected as everyone seems to think she is.

 

Barbara's office was at the top of the building and Jason took his time climbing the stairs, following after the mustard wisp of memories. The windows, although the same matte black as the walls from outside, reached around the whole building and cast a beautiful shadow over the other 'scrapers. At some point the stairs had shifted away from the open into a proper hallway type staircase, much like the one at the library.

The search at the library had brought mixed results. With it being impossible to access the Internet due to a virus on the unlucky day they went, thanks to this they'd had to go off the limited magazine selection. Apparently most things were online now, the main stories in particular, with the general gossip only being printed and yet, somehow they deemed it fine for what was printed to be put on some fucking Harry Potter like newspaper where the pictures moved. Jason found it useless and annoying but Rachel had found a myth buster book and had skimmed through it, finding some shitty, obviously made-up, answer in response to the League of Assassins.

Turns out someone was the head of the LoA and it wasn't Talia. Male references being used too much as a leading figure. Rachel took one look at it, shot him puppy eyes, and shut the book. Meandering off to find a pair of scissors. Or to possibly bribe a hair dresser, which one, Jason did not know and was fine without said knowledge.

Jason didn't bother arguing anyway. About any of it.

After that he'd searched the magazines for something that was useful. He'd found a poster for Barbara running for Commissioner of Gotham PD and filed that information away.

An old magazine from a year ago (or was it _new?_ Technically everything here was new for Jason. Time travel was hard to figure out.) clearly stated that Commissioner Gordon had changed some law pertaining to something to make it easier for cops to get holidays but it hadn't said if it was Barbara.

So Jason took a wild leap of hope (and god was he shocked he had any left, he must've started stealing some from Rachel at some point) and here he was; following Barbara up to her office.

"This is the top floor," Barbara no- Future-Barbara said conversationally. It was the first time Jason'd heard her speak aside from shouting across reception and he noted how on-edge she sounded. She spared a look behind her, at him. "Keep up."

Her brain must've realised she had long legs as Barbara strode across and through the minefield of offices faster than she'd skittered up the stairs. Jason passed too many open doors where the inhabitants of said offices froze and stared as he walked by. Jason wondered, not for the first time, what he'd done in their past but his future to gain such a reaction.

Barbara spun to a halt outside a dark wood door, and turned to push a key produced from her coat pocket into the lock, before she vanished into the room. The name plate burned a pure gold as the light glittered off it. 

Her office was nice; big and relaxing. The windows offered a clear view over the grand town hall and a particularly busy corner street with bustling traffic and a few corner cafes that were obviously jam-packed even at such a height and distance away.

A large desk, with a stack of paperwork and a small holographic projector the size of a pea sat on top of it, held a sturdy guard in the middle back of the room with two cream couches shuffled around an oak coffee table a few feet in front of the desk. While it seemed chaotic at the same time everything was positioned nicely in the middle of the room. One of those fluffy rugs sat under the couches and table while a minibar hunched in on itself in the far corner of the bright room. At a quick glance Jason found scotch and gin to be a few big populates of the shelf behind the counter, with a couple barstools perched calmly around it.

Paintings sat on the walls and Jason chose to explore them as Barbara stiffly made her way towards her seat.

The office _was_ nice, Jason mused as he paused at a particularly rudimentary painting that he knew to cost a lot even though it looked as if a five-year old had made it. "How've you been, Babs?"

"Great," she grunted, not exactly sounding it. Jason was willing to ignore the fact she was staring as if she'd seen a ghost now that she was still. "You?"

"It's been a bit rough," he answered as he moved on to the next painting, hanging just above a wall of filing cabinet that took up the entire right hand side of the office. This one was a painting of a woman who seemed to be part of the clouds, she was crying with her neck slit and a star holding a bloody needle as it looked down on her. Jason decided he didn't like the look on the star's face and turned away. Barbara looked constipated.

He smirked as he stauntered over to the nearest couch and jumped over the back of it to settle down on. "You look like Bruce when he tries to resemble what emotion feels like."

She didn't smile like he expected her to, instead she glowered. "Much obliged, Jason."

Her language had changed.

Jason reminded himself that he was forty-one years in the future. Of course people had changed how they spoke. That didn't stop the unease from bubbling up oddly in his gut.

"You've done well for yourself," he continued, not showing how hurt he felt by the sudden coldness in her voice. He wondered where his Barbs had went, when had her smile died? "this place is looking good."

"You talk as if you've never seen it," she mused and suddenly he felt like the mouse and like Babs was the lion, stalking him ruthlessly, ready to kill.

No that wasn't right. Barbara felt like a panther. Like a dangerous beast ready to pounce.

It unsettled him.

"I wouldn't say that," he smirked, holding up a façade so he didn't trip and fall where he stood. "I just haven't looked this closely in a while."

"Would you like--" A woman, dainty and clumsy looking with too little makeup stumbled into the room, opening the door with a too loud bang. She froze awkwardly upon seeing him. "Uh- w-wou- a- a..."

"The usual, Alexander," Barbara said calm as ever, salvaging the situation before her coffee girl ruined everything. Barbs tilted her head at Jason, "You want anything?"

"Coffee," he said instantly at the proposal of free drinks. "No milk, three sugar. Please."

Alexander took one last blink at him before she turned and vanished so quick you'd've thought Joker's hyenas were chasing her. A glance back to Barbara had her looking panicked as she stared at him, eyes cloudy.

Jason decided to cut to the chase, his patience was gone.

"I'm pretty, I get it. Fuck off," he growled.

"W-What?" Future-Barbara spluttered, leaning back in her Commissioner's seat. "Pardon?"

Jason levelled her with a glare that could even make his Damian back home baulk. "Do I need to repeat myself? I swear to god, you people 'round here have a staring complex or some shit."

Future-Barbara stuttered like her mind had blanked at something so devastatingly shocking she just couldn't comprehend it. It looked so alien on her face, the pure shock with lingering horror, that Jason got fed up at everything not going his way and got angry.

"Well?" He asked because he was done and now Barbara was looking judging and who was she to judge? None of them had a right, not after what the Wayne family had done. Jason just wanted answers, he wanted to go home, he wanted Thai and he wanted to fuckin know why everyone stared at him as if he'd killed their dog.

"You're meant to be dead," she said finally and Jason felt the world stutter around him, just like that time when that cloaked asshole dumped them in this time. Barbara seemed beyond herself as she leant back further in her chair and pulled an arm up to rub at her eyes. Her voice broke when she spoke again, "We all seen your corpse, we seen it and yet here you are, daring to set foot on public ground - police grounds, even - when knowing you killed your wife."

_What?_

Jason's thought process stumbled.

_("You killed your wife.")_

_What?_

_No._

_He'd never. Never would he touch Rachel meaning to harm her unless he was trying to save her from herself._

Very suddenly, Jason felt sick.

"What?" It came out as a tortured whisper, broken in more ways than one. Was this why Batwoman had punched him? Was she one of the family that they hadn't recognised due to the passage of time? Had-- had she seen the body? Had she seen Rachel die by--  _by his hands?_

"I'd never," he said and this time he sounded lost. Lost like Rachel had sounded when he'd told her they were in 2068. His chest ached like when he'd been punched and suddenly his fingers were numb. God, he'd killed _Rachel_ in this timeline.

"How?"

Barbara let out a little broken snort like she couldn't believe he was doing this here and now.

"You fucking tortured her, don't you remember?" She was in front of him now, voice raised so much Jason was glad the ditsy assistant had closed the door behind her. "Stephanie was there, you made her watch then you killed her too! You fucking strangled and murdered Tim when he came home and then you ran! You ran like the coward you are and we found your body in the ravine days after you'd rampaged through the city and killed hundreds more!"

She paused for a choked breath that had thick tears rolling down her cheeks, it gave Jason's insides time to shrivel and clench. He felt dizzy. This was too much.

"You destroyed our name - Bruce's name, our family! Everyone split up after, with Damian going after Talia and taking her name and the League and Duke retreating into himself like a tech hermit and Cassandra running off to massacre anyone that crossed her path! Everyone ridiculed us, shunned us, only now with one vigalante over twenty years later are we okay. Now Nyssa, Bruce's bastard child, is Batwoman and the family hasn't met up in _years_ and it's all _your_ fault!"

Jason pulled his elbows up onto his knees and buried his face in his hands. This time's Rachel was dead because of him and he'd just walked into a Police Station like a dead man with a wish.

He should've researched but no, some newspaper clippings were all it took for him to get excited over nothing. Now here he was, stuck with an angry Barbara and reeling after an impromptu history lesson. And Batwoman? Bruce's bastard child. Who would've thought. Jason thought he had enough of those to stop him from even _thinking_ about having another.

Seems he was wrong.

He'd thought he'd have been fine, sauntering in and having a talk with Babs but he'd been wrong about that too.

In their line of work, mistakes meant death. Jason was lucky they were even alive.

_Fucksake._

He was speechless otherwise. How was he meant to explain to this Babs that he was from the past? That he hadn't done anything? She'd probably still hate him though.

"Why?"

"What?" He asked, head jolting up and finding that Barbara had collapsed in the couch opposite him, cheeks red and eyes puffy. She looked sad now, no longer angry, just heartbreakingly sad. It ripped at his soul agonisingly.

"Why did you come back?"

"I- I didn't." He said and decided to come clean. This was fucked up anyway. He'd fucked up big time. "I'm from the past, 2027 to be exact."

That seemed to throw Barbara for a loop just like the information about them being in the future had him and Rachel. "What?"

"Rachel's here with me too," he spluttered to explain, practically grasping for mercy as he felt the world collapse around him. "She's went off to talk to Dami to call in a favour and I came here to see- to see _you."_

"Why would you come to see me?" Barbara asked and she sounded just as torn as he felt. Jason thanked whoever was listening that the coffee girl hadn't came back yet. It was a miracle one of her office workers hadn't came in at all the shouting. " _Why_ , Jason?"

"I thought you could help, we were close in 2027, I thought it'd be the same here."

"How can I know you're telling the truth?" She asked, sounding suspicious now, waving air about her eyes to calm them down.

"I-" He didn't know, how could he-- Batwoman. "That Batwoman - Nyssa, you said? - punched me through a wall when we first met a few nights ago. She seemed to know what was goin' on."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before a flick seemed to switch in Barbara and Jason got the feeling she hated the woman just as much as Jason did in his few days there. "God fucking ridiculous that girl is, I swear. She's as bad as Bruce."

At his questioning gaze, Barbs continued on, standing up and fixing her sweater. "She keeps things secret unless you're dying because of it. Never should've let B raise her, knew it was a bad idea from the start."

"How old is she?" He asked lamely.

"Around 22 roughly," Barbara grunted as she strode over to her desk, Jay stood and followed her. A swipe of her hand over the projector had a huge computer screen popping up along with a projected keyboard. Immediately Barbara started typing.

A profile of a pale woman with Bruce's jaw line and eyebrows popped up. Her eyes were a firm steely blue and her luxurious black hair fell about her in waves comparable to that of the ocean. Her name popped up, along with background and address and all that shit.

Name: Nyssa Wayne (formerly McGinnis, name changed to the Father's).

Born: 23rd October 2044. Currently 24.

Gender: Female.

Place of residence: Wayne Manor and grounds, with Bruce Wayne (relation: Father).

Background: No criminal record to speak of.

Additional Info: CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Masters in: Physics, Finances, Mathematics, Political Science, ICT, Human Resources, Project Management, Theology, Public Health & Relations individually and Psychology.

Jason whistled, "That's a long list of Grad. degrees she's got." It was honestly a bit daunting. He'd always wanted to study English Lit. what had happened?

_You died,_ said that little voice in the back of his head he knew was his anger. _And you forgot with age._

"I know," Barbara said, sounding slightly jealous. "I have no clue how she managed it all. This hasn't been updated yet apparently because she's flaunting a Doctorate in Theology and Information Technology now."

"Wow." He said, honestly shocked. This woman seemed to be, on paper, a literal genius. "Information Technology?"

"Oh, ICT."

"Right," he muttered, feeling a tad stupid. "Anything else I should know?"

"My assistant won't be bringing back that coffee." She replied.

Jason raised an eyebrow and followed Barbara's resigned line of sight to a figure grabbing at her bag in the middle of the crossing, two cups splattered about her. It shocked a bark of amused laughter out of him.

"In all seriousness though," Barbara said, already typing. "There is something you should know, not pertaining to Nyssa."


	9. Settling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for how in most of my stories (including this one) the space taker symbol things change constantly. So it's now -/-/-. Sorry for any confusion. XD
> 
> Btw, a long chap today in preparation for a short one next update.
> 
> Status: edited.

 

 

"Damian."

Sand brushed through the open window, curling in the air as the gusts swung it about the corridor. Rachel stood in the middle, short hair barely ruffled by it where his shoulder length hair needed to be pulled tight into a pony tail.

"That would be my name."

They were at a standstill. His katanas drawn to match hers. Rachel seemed so holy, so angelic that for a second Damian wondered if she really was from their time before dismissing it at the sight of anger in her eyes. Rachel had tamed in her years, her frustration mellowing out into a smooth calm that had always surrounded her.

Rachel-- this Rachel was different. Not his. Not theirs. Not anymore.

Currently, she laughed and it was dark with shadows lurking in it. She was haunted still, pursued by the devil which she so hated. "It has been so long, has it not?"

"Indeed," he agreed for he didn't know which year she was from. "Which year do you come to me from, sister?"

She seemed impressed as she answered, if the curve of her lips was anything to go by. "2027."

Ah. The joyful year of drama and invasions. First the timeline problems, then Barbatos, then the problems with the Justice League in early September and finally the Professor popping up in late November.

"The month?"

"October, 28th."

They were in March now. March 21st, his Rachel's birthday.

"Today is March 21st." He said and waited for a reaction.

None came.

"Your birthday?" He asked finally, hoping to remind her. Instead he got a scrunched nose and a funny look.

"My birthday is on 11th November," she said and took a step forward, katanas wavering solidly through the air. "Nevertheless, I am here for a favour I hope has not yet been used."

"Ah," he hummed, filing away that deficiency in continuity. "Back for that finally?"

He got a cheeky grin before she vanished. Keeping his breathing normal and heartbeat under control, Damian waited for her to reappear.

"I see you still enjoy taunting your prey,"

"Who said you were my prey, Dami?" Came the whisper from behind that had him whirling around to find red eyes plucked straight from a horror movie. It brought him little pleasure now that he was taller than his sister as in this moment he felt the need to cower behind a cape.

There hadn't been a cape to cower behind in quite some time.

"I had taken that for granted," he pressed out past the heart shattering fear that staring into those contracted black pupils brought. "when you accessed your speed."

She vanished again and long slender arms wrapping around his shoulders made him freeze. Her chin tapped his right shoulder guard and her short hair tickled the shaved side of his head.

"I thought you enjoyed hugs, Dami?" Now it was a question. One of taunting and lost hope. Rachel was confused and she was reacting in the only way she knew how.

_Like a Talon._

"I remember a time when you did, anyway," she murmured, too close to him. She could probably tell his heart was racing from feeling how his pulse buzzed being as close to his neck as she was. "Although, for you it was probably a long, _long_ time ago, hmm?"

"Not particularly," that was a lie they both knew. He started sweating. "I'm not as isolated as you seem to think, sister."

"Of course," she said, voice going lower just a tad as her fingers picked at the buckle of his chestplate they'd found.

Suddenly, with his heart in his boots and his stomach in his throat, Rachel tore away. She strode around him and pouted up at him. "It's no fun when you're scared, Dami."

Damian didn't know what to say to that. So, he fell back to the land he knew how to run on, "What would you like, Rachel?"

She grinned, "I'm glad you asked, _brother_."

Damian shivered as he sheathed his katanas, feeling the lines in his hands where he'd clutched them too tightly. What had he gotten himself into?

 

 

-/-/-

 

 

Jason tapped the heel of his steel-plated boots on the sidewalk, back resting on the sturdy bricked walls of the library. He was glad they'd kept the building in its original state as it made it easier to find amidst the matte black of all the other useless ones.

Barbara had been in better form when he'd left, calling after him to come back before he left. In the end, the assistant, Alexander, had came back with two cups of coffee and sure Jason was pretty sure she'd put in four spoonfuls of sugar instead of three but he was happy he'd even got one so he didn't complain.

"Jason," Said man looked over to the woman that shifted beside him and offered a grin that showed too many teeth.

"Rachel," he greeted back, already feeling a tad sick at her name alone. No doubt, she knew what had happened by now. "You get what you wanted?"

"Indeed," she said, mimicking a low tone that had to be her impersonation of the brat. "Everything I went for."

He pushed himself off the wall and offered up a sneeze-like laugh, "He really sound like that now?"

Rachel didn't respond and when he stopped and turned to her, he saw her eyes were red.

His heart thudded, "Baby?"

Her arms shot up and hooked him into the darkness of the alleyway that she stood in. He was slammed mercilessly against the brick wall as she leaned in.

"You're afraid," she hissed, eyes sparkling in the way that said she was angrier than she let on. Her back had stopped aching by this morning (how though, with that shitty coatbed, Jason did not know) and it allowed her to be a bit more brutal than before. "Why?"

"I think you know _why,_ " he snarked back.

"Oh?" She giggled, head tilting thoughtfully. "You didn't kill me, I thought you were smarter than that, Jay-Jay."

Her tone had taken on a snide, cruel lilt to it that Jason didn't like. He growled back at her, teeth showing in the way that made Red release control of a situation. "Who are you to say that? Give me Rachel."

Red eyes glinted before they smoothed down into Rachel's cerulean blue. She blinked up at him but her eyes were so cloudy that they looked sapphire. She let go of him and walked away.

"It's not your fault," she said already disappearing down the footpath.

God damnit, Rachel could be so fuckin' _bipolar_ whenever she wanted to be. Jason sucked in air and calmed himself. He was being stupid, he hadn't done anything, not yet anyway, and he didn't need to beat himself up over this stupid shit. He righted his coat and stepped out into the footpath.

_Right._ He was okay, he was _good._

There was no need to panic over something that was years away.

The sun was setting, casting a shivering image of shadows over the street. They'd picked a small one where not many people walked but the traffic was so dense no one cared about what was happening on the footpaths. If anyone had seen them they'd probably just think they were making out.

A look to his left had him finding Rachel's retreating figure, hands shoved in her pockets to fend off the cold spring air. She wasn't going in the direction of the old shop so Jason took her previous words to be true in that she had gotten what she'd went to Al Ghul's palace for.

He caught up with her in a few hurried but calm strides and in moments he was slowing down to her speed, walking alongside her, leaving one hand hanging for her to take if she wanted. She took it and squeezed.

"The flat's old but clear, we can go in instantly. There's enough money inside to last a few months and the gear we need is all in there." They'd left all their useless shit in the shop anyway, in a rash moment of indecision as constructcion men had started fencing the area off to bulldoze. It was better to erase all traces than leave something, _anything_ behind.

"The info?" He asked, voice as low as hers. They passed a camera and tilted their heads away innocently as if Rachel'd pointed out something for them to look at across the street. Jason pulled up his hood when they cleared it's view with Rachel awkwardly tugging up her own.

"Got it," she confirmed a few minutes later when there was definitely no angry Batwoman chasing after them. "B's still alive, the girl is with him."

"I know that, I was talking about the other thing." He smirked, swinging their arms between them as his fingers twitched at lack of movement. "The cloaked guy."

"Dami didn't know much aside from the fact he's lost three agents in the few days Cloak has popped up."

_Agents_ , Jason snorted and he saw Rachel smirk at likely the same thing. _More like heartless assassins._

"Babs said anytime they have reported sightings of him there's always a blackout zone on their sensors."

"Hmm?" Rachel looked both ways as they crossed the road.

"They scan regularly 24/7 for odd pockets of activity in tech because apparently that's a main problem nowadays. Anytime this dude pops up entire areas of their scanners go offline and they're left in the dark, sometimes literally."

"Could he have something he wants to hide?" Rachel mused. "He must if he's using a device like an EMP."

"That's what I said," he nodded. "Babs said once, just _once_ , one of the downtown cameras got a sighting of a huge metal craft hovering over a blackout zone. When they went to review the footage within seconds it was corrupt and the camera shredded to bits."

"I take this to mean the general public doesn't know of any of this?"

Rachel was right, if the public knew about this there would've been mass panic. "No way. They've been told it's just faults in the electricity boxes down in the sewers and that they go offline randomly when the engineers are fixin' them."

"They believe that?" Rachel asked incredulously, matching Jason's original reaction.

"Most of them." He recited what Barbara had said, "Some think it's something bigger but haven't figured out what yet."

"And Bats?"

"The woman?" He asked, just to be sure.

Rachel shot him a look.

"Right," he laughed nervously. "Bruce has another kid, Nyssa Wayne. Shit ton of degrees and current CEO of WE. Public seem to love her as the genius of the family but insiders don't seem to like her."

"Probably because they think they won't be able to get away with what they tried to do with B." Rachel answered as they entered a nice little neighbourhood. "Anyone asks and we're renting this, don't know the owner and we're newlyweds."

Jason snorted despite himself, "Babe, we act like newlyweds everyday anyway."

Rachel consented, nodding. "True. Your ID is Solomon and mine's Samantha. Surname Drake."

And he was _sure_ that _wasn't_ a coincidence. _Cheeky bastard._

They paused outside a twenty storey building that was the same matte black as everything else. Jason pushed open the doors and they stopped at the sight of an elevator and stairs side-by-side.

"Stairs?" Rachel asked, higher than she normally did. The tone suited her, with a new sparkle of innocent naivety in her eyes making her seem younger than she was.

Jason went for charm when he winked down at her, scooping her up around the waist as he strode over to the elevator.

"Not tonight, sweetie." He smiled, whisking them both into the small metal box as the doors opened. "Gotta have enough energy to _enjoy_ our new place."

A man cleared his throat awkwardly in the corner and Jason broke away from Rachel in a fluster. Awkwardly, he smiled at the equally as awkward man.

He looked to be in his thirties with long sandy brown hair and high eyebrows. His hair covered the left side of his face but he smiled back nonetheless. He had on a pale beige sweatshirt and a pair of dark tracksuit bottoms. His bright orange trainers stood out starkly against the dull metal of the elevator floor.

"Sorry," he said and he sounded odd, as if he was talking through a radio, or a blocked nose. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Silence lingered for a few seconds as the man punched in floor level 14 and Rachel reached round for a sec to hit 9. Jason spared Rachel a glance and found her red-faced and standing shyly behind him.

"So," the man trailed off then picked the sentence back up. "You new here?"

Rachel tugged on his coat sleeve for him to answer. He smiled reassuringly down at her, falling into their little game easily. "Yeah, just got married there so you could say we're 'branching' out."

The man smiled, "Well then, congratulations. It's nice to welcome you both here. I'm not long here myself but I have to say, everyone is so friendly! I'm Lewis. Lewis Marshall."

Jason nodded, "Solomon Drake." He smiled lovingly down at Rachel, not really needing to force it aside from the fact they were talking to a complete stranger. "This is Samantha."

Rachel squeaked comically, going even redder as she looked up at Marshall. "H- hello."

Marshall smiled and opened his mouth to say more but the floor number dinged and the doors opened and Rachel was tugging at Jason's sleeves. He nodded to Marshall in what he hoped was a friendly way, "Thanks, Marshall. Maybe we'll see you around?"

"Of course," Marshall said. "And please, call me Lewis."

The door shut and the sound of the elevator going up broke Jason out of his reverie.

They were on floor 9. Jason didn't know what floor they were meant to be on.

"This our floor?" He asked, not daring to break character until they were in the flat and they'd scoured it from top to bottom.

"Yeah," Rachel said and she was still redfaced. Jason chuckled.

"If I didn't know any better I'd be thinking you liked someone else, Sammy."

Rachel glared up at him with her façade never once cracking. She let out a rush of air through her mouth in an effort to appear annoyed and at the same time, to cool down. "Sure."

She dragged him over to the door on the end of the hallway, walking past four doors on either side, each one adjacent to the one of the other side.

The walls were nice, Jason found himself thinking. With their white mixing with the black wooden paneled floor. It certainly looked nice, if not expensive.

Each door had a golden carved number on it, theirs was 90. Rachel shyly pushed open the door to reveal an immediate walk-in open-planned dining room slash fully equipped kitchen that circled into half a square. To the left sat an oak table with four chairs around it, a lone cactus perched in the middle.

In the middle of the room was a sort of island that Rachel slowly put down the key to the apartment on. Past the awkward kitchen the room opened up, thanks to a door, into a huge living room complete with a large, black L-Shaped leather couch and a flatscreen TV. Off to the right was a door that opened up into a huge bedroom, complete with an en-suite.

Five minutes of checking everything later, Jason was pretty sure the place wasn't bugged out like one would've thought. Rachel seemed oddly smug about this, Damian apparently already having said the place was clear.

Rachel cleared her throat and walked into the bedroom, "Look for a switch under something bolted down."

Jason made a beeline to the bedside table that sat stiffly beside the Queen sized bed. He pulled out the two drawers, checked them for bottoms and then ran his hands over the actual base. His fingers snagged on a small switch.

"Found it," he said and Rachel was beside him in a second. He flicked it up at her nod and the bed folded up into itself instantly and seemingly flipped up to attach itself to the wall. In the bedframe, secured from the light of day, sat an assembly of weapons.

Everything from tommee's to katanas and throwing stars was there. Rachel hit a small red button on the casing of the weapons unit and all of a sudden it sprung up, layers coming into reality as it displayed more weapons. Jason was thankful the windows had automatically shut when they'd flipped the switch as smoke and gas grenades became visible.

Rachel tapped something again and a blue light washed over them.

**Recognised: Rachel Wayne \- _Authorised._**

**Recognised: Jason Todd-Wayne \- _Authorised._**

It sounded so like GLADIS that Jason froze for a second. Then, their suits unfolded on mannequins. Yet they weren't their suits, _no._ These suits were updated and sleeker than their other ones.

These ones look positively _deadly_.

Rachel had the audacity to grin as she rubbed the black fabric hers was made from.

"Only the best, he'd said." She said as if to answer his unspoken question. She poked at the small plate attached to her left gauntlet. Jason looked at his and found one attached to his fingerless glove. He grabbed the glove, flicked the panel up and it whirred to life. "There's an entire communications array built into this, with heat sensors, maps and enough information to fry a human brain. Apparently these are the best Dami has to offer."

Jason tapped a small black button and suddenly it looked as if someone'd thrown clingfilm over his vision. He made a noise and Rachel looked up from where she was crouching at her suits heels and blinked.

"Invisibility," she murmured, sounding awed. She reached out to feel him and Jason met her halfway. Their hands made contact but he remained invisible.

"Wow." He said at last because this was amazing. Who knew what they could do with invisibility?

~~_"So, so much,"_ was the answer.~~

"We could do so much with this," Rachel said, obviously on the same wavelength as him.

Jason's gauntlet flashed for his eyes only and showed how the camouflage would only last for three more hours before he needed to recharge the console.

"How do we recharge these?" He asked as he tapped the button again and the clingfilm vanished.

Rachel blinked at him, away from where she was pulling on her left gauntlet. "Dami said it's like a phone. We just have to give it electricity, he said if we run out on-field if two are tapped together it can usually give the depowered one enough power to last 30 minutes."

"What if they're both needin' charged?" He asked as Rachel went invisible.

"Then we're both dead." She said and her voice seemed to echo so Jason didn't truly know where she stood. These were damn good. "Turn yours back on, I wanna test something."

Jason flicked his camo on (the gauntlet screen flashed at him to let it know it was called Surrounds Camouflage) and suddenly he could see Rachel too. She grinned at him.

"We can see each other because we're on the same frequency, but if we change frequency-" she tapped something and vanished. "-we can't see each other."

Rachel reappeared and then shut off her camo, Jason took that to mean she was done with proving her point and turned his off too.

"This mean we have to worry about others with invisibility seein' us?"

Rachel shook her head. "Damian made it very clear these invisibility devices run off the frequency the owners body runs through. He also made it clear that we vibrate at a different frequency from everyone else, either because we're from the past or because the world's frequency has changed somehow over the years. He said we should be fine."

"Can't somebody like Batwoman - assuming she has this quirk - just change what frequency their gadget runs off'a?"

"Nope," Rachel said, popping the _p_ happily. "It'll kill them if they use it for too long." And then, as if to answer his question, "Don't worry, whenever they turn off they reset back to the users normal frequency."

"Right," Jason said and suddenly he didn't know what to do. He placed the glove back on his mannequin and Rachel on hers before she tapped the buttons for the bed to return to normal.

Rachel awkwardly settled on the bedside table. "Jase, if your actually up for what you mention in the uh- elevator I um, wouldn't mind it."

He blinked and grinned at the condom she plucked out of the drawer.

"Sure, baby. C'mere." He pulled her into a giggly kiss. "Though," he plucked the condom from her nimble fingers. "I don't think we'll be needing this. What do you say?"

Rachel hummed agreeably against his lips. Suddenly, things felt a lot better than they had before. They were good, they had the means to survive and they _would._ No matter what.

Yeah. Maybe the future wasn't _that_ bad.


	10. Tap My Light To Be Just As Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter ten already? Damn, I'm gonna have to start planning an ending for this thing....
> 
> Status: edited.

 

 

"You can't be serious about this, Father?" Damian asks, nerves twitching and body pulsing as he registers how much the Cave has changed in over twenty years. It wasn't much aside from the robotic arms that lurk by the monitors and the extra cushioned swivel seat.

Father had called a Family Meeting for the first time in years. Honestly, if Damian didn't already know what this was about from his own knowledge he would've been worried. As it was, he was annoyed.

"I'm entirely serious, Damian." Father says and Allah does he look _old_. His wrinkles have wrinkles and Damian honestly does not know how he is alive without the use of a Lazarus Pit. His fashion choices are still a pain on the eye too, so nothing new there, aside from his receding hairline.

Though Damian is sure it begun receding almost ten years ago. So it's not _that_ new.

Everyone else that still remains is here too; Thomas, Cain, Gordon and his fellow bastard-child sibling, McGinnis.

Damian comforts himself with the knowledge that Gordon looks as displeased as he himself feels right in this moment of time.

"As much as I hate to agree with the brat, I'm going to. Why have you called us all here? And don't give me any bull about needing files from me because I doubt we all have the _same_ one that you need." Gordon growls and while Damian is disrupted by the name calling, he embraces it as a nickname.

"Commish has a point, Bruce." Thomas says and doesn't he look bigger than before? More muscular. Damian had heard a few months ago that Darkwing had been spotted in NY but he'd originally doubted the rumour.

Apparently it wasn't as false as it sounded, if the bulging biceps were anything to go by.

"I agree," Cain said, voice soft and a near whisper. She seemed perfectly at peace with the fire burning in her eyes, laid back with her legs crossed up on the table. The image reminded Damian painfully of their Rachel and he cast his gaze down, onto the black gloss table that shone from the blue haze from the assortment of monitors that hulked behind Father.

"You are here due to a pressing urge," Father said, vague as ever. "One that threatens the timeline."

Thomas made a low snorting sound and leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. When Damian looked at him, he was smirking. "When _isn't_ something threatening the timeline, B?"

Gordon chuckled along, nodding ruefully. "True. It's always _something_ isn't it?"

Damian spared McGinnis a glance and found her sitting by Bruce's left, head low and eyes closed as she used the chairs arm and her hand to stop herself from face planting the table. Asleep, if not unconscious from exhaustion. He almost felt pity for her, knowing she was the only vigilante operating in a City which once upon a time had more than five, and never less than three working in it at a time. Damian refrained from feeling anything for her out of sheer pettiness.

Bruce cast McGinnis a look. His shirt rustled as if his leg had moved and McGinnis' head shot up, hand pulling up to run through her wild, untamed mane of side flipped, half-buzzed hair. The young woman cleared her throat and reached for the bottle of god-knows-what that sat in front of her on the table.

Damian looked away briefly as she chugged half of it and flopped herself back, swinging on the hind legs of her chair.

"What did we get to?" She asked, tone somewhere between tired and just not caring. Damian hadn't interacted with the woman much but Barbara's grimace said she always acted like this.

Bruce seemed immune to the exasperation most would have by now, "They know there's a threat to the timeline."

"But not _what_?"

Bruce didn't speak.

McGinnis licked her lips and faced them all, eyes flittering over Cain who sat in front of her and glazing over Thomas who was beside Cain. Ignoring Gordon completely, sitting beside her grudgingly. Her eyes settled on him and she offered up a flash of a daunting smirk.

"Jason and.." she hesitated, choosing to roll her neck until her bones popped. "Rachel are here."

If the assembly around the table would've been speaking, a hush would've befallen them instantly at those words. As it was, everyone leaned in and the tension grew to a thickening stench. Duke's relaxed smirk tipped down into a frown and Cass stitched on her poker face but otherwise Damian was sure the lack of reactions from the rest meant they all knew to some degree already.

"From 2027," she continued on, either oblivious to the sudden death bearing stillness or not caring. Damian had a feeling it was the latter. "Time travellers. Hence the threats to the timeline."

"I knew," Gordon said and he wasn't surprised, for it merely confirmed his suspicions. Damian'd thought she'd been holding an air of superiority in her posture for the entire meeting. "Jay-- Jason came to the PD a couple days ago. He knew nothing of what's happened in the past thirty years."

Father seemed alarmed at that - at the fact that Todd was up and about - and his blank face was probably the most expressive expression amongst the table now, everyone else having calmed down at the time traveller bit. McGinnis nodded, almost sheepish, "He was in good health?"

Gordon raised a thin eyebrow, "He appeared to be, yes. Any reason?"

McGinnis smirked and shook her head, "Not really, no. Rachel wasn't with him?"

Barbara cast Damian a look and he pulled up his best poker face. "Rachel visited me."

"Huh," Thomas chuckled humourlessly. "Divide and conquer much?"

"Of course," Damian dismissed easily. "She merely popped by to say hello."

"I'm sure she did," Cain murmured, voice like velvet.

"Coffee, Madam?" Jarvis Pennyworth asked McGinnis, appearing from the shadows behind her. Jarvis was in all reality, Pennyworth's father whom McGinnis had brought back with her from a crumbling neighbouring dimension where Pennyworth was not yet born. The woman's actions held no consequences on the time continuum and so she was allowed to get away with it.

Damian personally didn't mind the small reminder of their Pennyworth. Sadly, he wasn't in Gotham enough to know the man well but he'd heard Pennyworth Sr. had quite a sense of humour from various sources.

Presently, McGinnis glanced at the man, just a few years older than her, and smiled. "Please, double the caffeine."

Jarvis raised his eyebrow too much like Pennyworth used to and Damian understood where he'd picked the habit up from.

"Caffeine is not good for your bladder, my lady." He admonished, despite the fact that it had been him that'd suggested coffee in the first place.

McGinnis laughed, soft and light, and Damian took a second to wonder what she would've been like if Bruce hadn't ended up raising her. "Yes, I know that, Jeeves."

Jarvis shook his head in mock misery, "And yet you continue to drink such filth."

Nevertheless, Jarvis took his rounds about the table. When he came to Damian he smiled and waited for an order.

"Plain black tea, no sugar, Pennyworth." Damian said, then let curiosity get the better of him. "Tell me, which year did you come from in your dimension?"

Jarvis smiled as if this question was asked often when they all knew it was a closely kept secret. "I originate from the 16th World. We were in 1933 when everything destabilised."

"I take it that McGinnis brought you back when she was sent there?"

"-By a villain," McGinnis pushed in at the end, watching the confrontation with a bored expression. She huffed out a breath of annoyance and something unrecognisable, "Was stuck there fifteen days."

"I tagged along with her, more than anything else." Jarvis said, smiling, ignoring McGinnis' interruption but something lingered in his eyes at the reminder of fifteen days. "I'm not as dependent on a woman five years younger than me as you seem to think, Mister Al Ghul."

Damian chuckled, "Damian, please."

Jarvis nodded, "Then I'd appreciate Jarvis, if you don't mind."

Damian smirked as Jarvis disappeared back into the shadows. The man had a good sense humour indeed.

 

-/-/-

 

If Nyssa had've known about the meeting where Bruce was calling the rest of the fam over, she'd've gotten some sleep. But as it was, she hadn't. On both accounts. 

That was why she'd stayed out til six AM not entirely by accident. The sun had risen and Jarvis had pinged her, kindly asking why she was still fucking awake.

"Do tell me that you haven't been up all night, Madam," he'd said, voice as smooth as lilacs. It had snapped her out of her distant haze, at least. "Or I'll have to take drastic action promptly."

"Pssh, as if," she'd responded, crouching low on her favourite spot on the gargoyle's neck that guarded the tunnel's opening. "I just woke up, Jeeves."

"I'm sure," he had chuckled, the sound stirring something in her that made her eyes flick to the rising sun nervously. They both knew she would never be up this early had she been in bed beforehand, unless she was in mortal danger - and even then it would be a struggle. "You are aware of the Family Meeting Bruce set for 10?"

Nyssa will forever deny the squeak that escaped her lips at that information. The words came out in Spanish quite unintentionally, _"¿Qué_ _?_ _"_

Damn Bruce and his mandatory ten hours of Spanish conversation a week with her.

"A Family Meeting, Madam. You heard me right."

And now, that left her sitting in some damned uncomfortable chair, watching and trying to stay awake as her _brother_ interrogated Jarvis on just where he'd came from. Nyssa was still pissed at Syfo (a small time B-List villain) for shooting her with that damned experimental gun of hers and sending her to a stupid fucking alternative dimension.

The fucking scar it had left on her hip (where it had nicked her) was as atrocious as ever. It still hurt occasionally too - phantom pains, Bruce claimed, weren't uncommon when paired with particularly nasty scars. Hers definitely fell into that category.

"Back onto the subject at hand," Bruce said, snapping Nyssa out of her daydreams. "We need to do something about this... _problem._ "

Honestly, Nyssa didn't think there was anything wrong with it. The Time Council boyos - namely the Legends - hadn't brought it up yet so their whole 'problem' obviously wasn't that bad. Nyssa knew that.

Bruce just didn't seem to be able to accept that for what it was.

She was also starting to regret punching Jason Todd that hard. The bruises Rachel had left _hurt._ It also meant she had to wear turtlenecks like her ancient statue of a father.

Those guys with the electrozides had also been in possession of quite a few guns and quite a lot of ammunition that Nyssa could confirm they all knew how to use. Her shoulder (where a guy had shot her at least three times in too quick a succession) hurt like shit to attest.

Why did she have so many god damned injuries? Nyssa leaned back in her chair and wished Jarvis would come with that coffee sooner rather than later.

Alarms went off suddenly. Too loud for her tired ears. Her back snapped straight on muscle habit and GLADIS was rattling off the problem before she even mustered up the energy to speak.

**_It seems there is a disturbance downtown. The Jokerz have appeared, scans count 150. They are currently attempting to rob the bank and are succeeding._ **

Nyssa rubbed at her eyes as she stood and swirled over to the set up arms which would dress her - sue her, she was lazy and it looked badass. A day where the _Jokerz_ were succeeding at _anything_ was a day she must be hearing things.

Or sleep deprived. Curse her lack of luck.

The chestplate was dumped onto her with what seemed to be a tad more force than usual even though Nyssa knew GLADIS was eternally careful. It seemed GLADIS knew of her internal death and sudden deafness too because a projected screen popped up and showed the bank's CCTV footage live.

Damain snorted either at how crude the goons were being or at how Nyssa nearly fell over when GLADIS slapped the armoured trousers onto her. Her legs stung with the force of which she fell into them.

Something flashed in the footage and Bruce made a disgruntled sound. "You didn't report the Royal Flush Gang being there too, GLADIS."

Nyssa's heart almost stopped as she fiddled with the cape. "What?"

GLADIS hesitated, **_My sensors aren't picking up their life signals nor their heat signatures._**

Nyssa's already shit mood dropped down a notch, _great_. If GLADIS wasn't picking them up then that either meant she was glitching or the Flush had found a way to bypass the scanners which were situated all over the City. Only one option was possible and it made dread boil in her stomach.

"Thought they were in _Arkham_ ," Barbara glowered, not sounding too happy.

_So did I,_ Nyssa thought but didn't say aloud. She stepped into the boots and stood there for a moment as GLADIS manually activated their fasteners.

She probably would've fallen asleep there had one of GLADIS' arms not nudged her with the tray presenting the gauntlets and belt.

As her fingers fumbled with the gauntlets Duke cleared his throat, giving her a coy look. "These guys look mean. Is Batwoman sure she doesn't want Darkwing's backup?"

She slapped the belt on, feeling the world darken as the suit attempted to power up as she moved but couldn't without her confirmation.

"Activate," Nyssa gritted out, feeling her form straighten out as the weight of the armour held itself up. She turned her attention to the table of people who looked too eager for their own good, making sure to pull her hair free of her cowl. "If you want to." She said tiredly, not caring too much at this point.

Duke grinned and pulled his unfolding suitcase out of his Nike bag. Damn bastard could fit his suit in a suitcase like goddamn Iron Man. _Fuck him,_ she thought then regretted it almost immediately after.

Sure, he was sporting some nice muscles, but he really wasn't her type.

Nyssa probably would've collapsed there and then if Jarvis hadn't have burst through the shadows like a maniac, holding his drinks tray with utmost care.

She refuses to confirm the notion that she drowned her coffee in three gulps. At least not with Barbara laughing at her.

"We'll continue this later," Bruce says and shifts everyone upstairs.

Nyssa dutifully ignores Darkwing's excitement at getting into a Batmobile again for the first time in years.


	11. The Dark Prepares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see C'vargén's side in this. (Who knew he had a daughter?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry late Christmas guys! 
> 
> I just posted a oneshot there, centering Nyssa, so if you like her go check out: Corrupted We Stand, Broken We Fall?
> 
> Hope this chap doesn't seem too rushed. I'm trying to pull up loose ties in the plot.

 

The ship is dark when he steps foot inside and it stays that way until Carla fully hooks herself back into her mainframe. Then everything is humming to life, buzzing with the energy he seems to have lost so long ago. The sight hurts him so he looks away and wishes he were deaf as to not hear the chitter which things emanate as signs of movement.

**_Welcome back, Captain._** Carla says, a cheery lilt to her monotone voice. The sound is foreign to C'vargén and he hates how the tone appears to linger in the air like an ominous beast, waiting to pounce and strangle him in a moment of weakness. **_It was not the same without you._**

He laughs and it's automatic; cold and hollow. Carla either doesn't notice or refuses to bring it up because it is not mentioned. "You were there the whole time, Carla."

She giggles, the audio odd as it now holds no body to claim. As it is, she makes the ship warmer to indicate her mood.

C'vargén wishes he were glad that one of them is happy but he cannot find it in himself to do so. He lets it slide.

**_Indeed, but the ship grows cold with disuse._ **

He has no answer for that that is appropriate for the mood so he merely nods.

A long silence lingers that C'vargén grabs and takes hold of before Carla can push it away.

"I'll be in my study," the words are on autopilot. His memory is shot and getting worse each day and he knows that. He's made increasingly aware of everything as he sits down on the chair at his desk and blinks at the pen and paper.

The pen is clutched in a hand and C'vargén wills the words into his mind, then his mouth and falters every so often when he finds he can't spell one. He's getting worse.

_Damn this body,_ he thinks in frustration and mounting anger. The robotic side of him was meant to be temporary but it has grown to the point where he needs it desperately to survive.

And it's all the Legends' fault.

That damn team, coming together and hijacking the Osculus. He'd been on his way to HQ when the shockwave had hit him, crippling his ship, shield and body.

His heart had exploded at the pressure, as well as a few other important organs, and Carla had panicked as much as an AI could. She'd replaced everything that needed replaced with the failsafe procedure of robotic parts and here he was - alive but only barely.

His memory had been affected greatly, his ambidextrous ability had been halved and his body would never be what it once was. Definitely not with half his face made of metal, along with an arm and both legs. Some of his organs and torso were even made out of rather unfavourable materials that he didn't dare think on, nevermind name.

Desperate for revenge -and with too many friends left behind back home in 2261 (because where do you think the Time Masters gathered people? Where better than the ultimate future they came from?)- he'd attempted to hunt the Legends down but Gideon proved to be brilliant at masking their presence even with the changes they made to the timeline where they went. After many tries and too many failures, he'd been forced into a corner with one option left.

Make a scene that would attract their attention. He'd done ezactly that, planting a serum in two of the Wayne children's heads and zipping them to a future not their own. It was a beautoful plan when he could remember it.

And sure, his body may have _modifications_ but he is still C'vargén of Slomah, 2261's highest district of Ireland. He will reign victorious.

He's lost too many things close to him to _not._

Ten minutes later the beautiful fountain pen lies shattered on the cool metal floor. Carla doesn't remark upon it.

 

-/-/-

 

"You'll be okay, right, daddy?" His little girl asks, eyes so full of innocent naïevity it hurts.

"Yeah, sweetie," he says, making sure his hood is up, covering his half robotic face. If his daughter wonders about it she knows better by now to ask. "I'll be real careful."

"Good," she says, pleased and happy. She claps her hands and her eyes flicker off to her left, she nods, smile eclipsing her face. "I love you!"

C'vargén smiles at that, "I love you too, tell your mommy I said hi."

She playfully saluted him, "Aye, sir!"

The holoscreen flickers off with a buzz. C'vargén sighs.

He doesn't think he'll make it, if he's entirely honest with himself. Nevertheless, this has to be done.

There is no rest for the wicked.

 

-/-/-

 

**_There's a h_** ** _igh concentration of Waynes in Wayne Manor, Captain._** Carla says and it sounds like she's rhyming off the materials in a chemically bonded compound, not saying that there's people living in a house.

C'vargén doesn't see why that information is deemed so worthy of being woken up to be told. He responds with his signature scowl on instinct. "And?"

**_You asked for suspicious activity to be reported imme--_ **

"Yes," he hisses. "I know _that._ Why is this so suspicious?"

Carla pauses like she's sensed she's hit a live wire with a flame and is figuring out if she can douse the explosion with a bucket of chemicals. The outcome is fifty-fifty for one doesn't truly know what is in the bucket, it could be flammable or it could be dense enough to put out the flame. This is what it's always like with him; hit the switch, say the wrong thing, and he'll combust.

**_Only Nyssa Wayne and Bruce Wayne live in Wayne Manor on a daily basis, Captain._** She says, voice calm as always. **_It is unusual for them to associate with others in their family after the happenings of 2035._**

The bucket douses the flame and the stray ashes turn into a light bulb. The information clicks just as she explains it.

C'vargén grins, "How many are there?"

**_Four aside from Bruce and Nyssa: Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon and Damian Al Ghul-Wayne._ **

"Al Ghul?" He thinks aloud, already getting up to check on his armour. And maybe Carla's spideric frame too. "Why would _he_ return?"

**_Bruce Wayne, current Head of Family, called a Family Meeting, Captain._ **

"On what?" C'vargén asks, his focus shooting all over the place. Why would a family that had disbanded suddenly all come together again when they had seemingly hated each others guts with a passion for years?

**_The heroes we dumped in this time with the help of that hallucination: Rachel Wayne and Jason Todd._** **_They seem to be stirring trouble._**

There's so many names C'vargén knows he will not remember them all so he does not try to.

"What are they saying?" He asks, cutting to the point, and Carla makes a noise.

**_I can't hack into their mainframe without being there; they have an extremely advanced AI of their own, Captain._ **

_Impressive,_ he thinks. It isn't everyday they find an AI that Carla can't hack into aside from Gideon.

"Very well," he says and now he knows what to do. "Set a course for Wayne Manor, Carla. 2068."

Her tone is smug when she answers, **_Of course, Captain._** ** _Right away._**

C'vargén prepares for battle.


	12. Where the Gold At?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year guys! (I'm only like 2 days late...)
> 
> Anyway, a beautifully.... 'dark' chap today. (It's not really dark. R&R please.)
> 
> Status: edited.

 

The armour was heavy and the only thing keeping her up by now was the way it locked together at the joints for a safety precaution.

Yeah, so maybe the Flush Gang were more ruthless than usual. Maybe Nyssa shouldn't have stayed up til six AM and maybe she should've thought about a plan before she and Darkwing burst in through the double doors.

But she was tired and her head hammered in the all too familiar call of a headache and her hip burned in remembrance of the lazer beam that had sliced through it months ago and she hadn't drunk enough coffee and god it wasn't going well. Her shoulder hurt too.

Okay, yeah. Things weren't going well.

Darkwing was good, she'd hand him that. When they'd first stormed in Duke had batted away the Jokerz like twigs and he a tornado. His muscles were pretty to stare at as he worked them and he was quick on his feet and agile everywhere.

The dream guy really. Especially to bring on a bust.

Nyssa, on the other hand, couldn't pull off things with the finesse she usually had and the Jokerz latched onto that weakness and sucked like leetches. The Royal Flush Gang were stealing whatever the fuck the bank kept in their goddamn too easy to break into vault and she could hear the repulsive laughter from where she was out in the main foyer.

"Bats!" Darkwing shouted, waving something about in his hand warningly as she jumped up, did the splits mid-air and took down three goons, one with her hands and the other two with her feet. A glance over nearly left her with a concussion so she had to go with her instincts as she dipped into a roll.

A flash of bright light echoed in her eyes as the cowl reacted and dulled the light interception. She pushed out her stance, using her leg muscles to stay upright. Oh how she wished people could just use their words properly. They had comms for a _reason._

Around her goons dropped to the ground or stumbled about, some shouting, most groaning. Darkwing raced forwards, towards the door to the tellers and disappeared through it.

Nyssa became all too aware of the audience watching through her cowl lenses and dropped the electric field shocker and let the thugs fall unconscious. She stole forward, jumping over the downed bodies of men and women alike, and came face to face with King.

He seemed more vicious than usual, his eyes gleaming a dangerous red, as his hand shot out before she could react. Nyssa hit the ground in a roll, listening to instincts before anything else. She's glad she did when a steady stream of razor sharp playing cards shoot out of King's hand and embed themselves deep into the ornate wood of the doorframe.

_That's new,_ she thinks despairingly. She doesn't like it already.

She pings the comm and instead of Bruce's reassuring voice she's met with nothing but cold, derelict static. Nyssa doesn't -  _can't_ \- worry about that now because there is no time. So, she powers on, pushing forward with the strength in her legs and tackles the dressed up man from an awkward angle.

They hit the ground with a thud, Nyssa making sure King takes the brunt of it. Still, he recovers too soon and grips onto her arms and swings her into the ground. She lands with a grunt and god something hurts real bad.

Her head. It's her head, she thinks dully. A concussion probably.

_Shit._

Queen comes along, flying in the air thanks to some attack from Dark, and barrel slams right into King. Knocking them both away for something of a split second.

Nyssa coughs and it makes her too dizzy to be good, shit her chest feels tight, so she hauls herself upright and meets the demonic stare of Jack. She's half buried in the wall before she even registers the slash from his sword and god she can't be the only one acting slow because Ace shouts something taunting that rings in her ears to Duke - because Ace is winning, like what? _Since when?_ \- and she knows it's not just her.

The wall is cold and unforgiving as she pulls herself out, it pulls back and tugs at her suit and her ribs burn. A few seconds later she gets out and hits the ground with a wobble, Darkwing is slammed right into the wall just as she looks up. Inches away from her. By Ace, the Flush's heavyhitter and the only one capable of such a feat.

_Obviously._

Dark makes a grunt that she takes to mean he's fine so she activates the batarangs she stores in the arms of her suit and readies to throw them.

Jack gets hit in the chest and upon contact the sleek carbon fiber disk explodes into flames. Queen screeches, dropping what seems to be a bag of gold bars, that have to be heavy, to hurry over and flap at him with her cape. King growls and the sound seems to reverberate around the almost still room. He's in front of her before she can blink.

The shock hits her before she even realises she's dodged a punch that would've killed her. Nyssa's adrenaline climbs and suddenly she's fully awake, pushing everything aside for just this fight.

She dukes under the arm that shoots out for her, twisting under it like its the obstacle course back at the Manor. Her arm reaches out and attaches the electrodisk and seconds later King erupts in fizzling, scaled down lightning.

His scream of rage makes her heart beat faster. She sucks in a deep breath and tells herself she won't panic. It doesn't work as well as she'd hoped it would've.

Nyssa is backflipping away suddenly, narrowly missing the dart-like cards that Queen shoots from a fucking walking stick that she has no idea of where it could've came from. Like nope, forget the jazzy little wrist band, walking sticks are apparently all the rage nowadays. God, the Flush Gang are acting _weird._

A table conveniently flipped on its side proves to be a decent cover and from there Nyssa pulls out a few more batarangs and watches Dark finally haul himself out of the wall.

"On your left, Batwoman!" Duke calls, nearly deafening her. She winces and whirls around to come face to face with Ten who's grinning madly and has apparently appeared out of nowhere.

"Hey there, Batsy!" Her vision explodes in red, orange and yellow before she feels a tugging at her neck and is haulled up like a pup by Ace, ten feet away from where she once was. The android sneers in her face and Nyssa finds herself collapsing into the ground as once more Dark intervenes and throws a ragdoll Ten at the robot who drops her to catch his teammate.

They're acting more _teamy_ than usual and that oddly upsets Nyssa for some reason.

Maybe because it actually makes them _hard_ to take down.

Jack is back up and at it, slashing his sword around with a fine precision that is so not him. Dark nods at her and takes King who's stumbling to his feet and seems oddly scarier than normal. That leaves her with Jack as he squares up to her goadingly. Nyssa pulls out an extending escrima stick because she has nothing left at this point.

_God damn it._ She wishes it was just over with already. The lack of responce from the comms had set a deep rumbling worry in her belly that still threatens to crawl up her oesophagus and die in her mouth. It feels as pleasant as it sounds.

Jack roars, his little glass eye mask thing positively glowing as he charges forward. Nyssa meets him head on and tries to ignore the fist-fight Dark's currently having with King.

Nyssa uses the strength in her arms and pushes back against the flaming sword out of force of will and muscle habit. Jack seems pleased at her strength and pulls back suddenly, leaving her to pull back quicker than she would've liked.

Jack laughs spontaneously, the sound hysteric and unhinged, too much like fire wrapped up in a quality bundle and shoved out the door. Nyssa grounds herself into the present and tenses up suddenly. She doesn't know why until she's being held up off the ground by her neck, Ace's large hand esconing around her.

He squeezes his fingers and Nyssa makes a horrible wheezing sound as she finds out she can't breathe as Ace knees her in the sternum. Her diaphragm feels like its shrivelled up and died. The escrima stick is tugged from her hands and she vaguely realizes that they're clammy. A sure sign of shock along with her heart rate.

_Multitask,_ she thinks. _C'mon, breathe, Niss. Break free._

She does just that - or _tries_ to, anyway. It ends badly, with Ace laughing loudly and shaking her as she struggles weakly. There's black spots growing around and in her vision and Nyssa knows she'll faint soon. Dark hollers something, seemingly so far away when he's only meters away.

Ace's laugh gets louder, "I have won!" He proclaims as Nyssa's shoulders sag and she coughs for breath. Her limbs are numb and though she doesn't bleed, it feels like blood splatters and runs down her lips. "I have bested the Batwoman of Gotham once and for-"

"GLADIS is down!" Duke yells in realisation - knowing probably from the way the input on his visor falters just like hers - panic tinting his voice. Something desperate, _clawing, vicious,_ wells up inside of her and she reacts.

Ace's boasting is cut off by an awkward but sharp heel to the face. The force of it actually spins his head around so the covering flexi-metal that acts as his skin breaks and his wires show. A fire batarang slips into her hand and he drops her as he screams in a robotic version of pain, his internal wiring going up in flames.

Nyssa gasps for air, feeling her ribs start to twang at the too deep breaths. A stitch, damn. Her head is heavy, her vision blurry and her ears feel full of cotton. Her back aches lightly from the hard position she'd forced herself into to fight back but the adrenaline dulls everything. Queen or somebody runs at her from her peripheral vision and on automatic she slaps the voltage on the electrodisks up to full and flings it at the persons forehead.

It's Ten, she finds, as she turns around and is greeted with the sight of her faceplanting into the hard wooden floorboards.

Jack pulls up behind her and he gets two electrodisks - one to the face, the other to the crotch - before he even blinks.

Dark finishes up with King and Queen and strides over to her, limping slightly, probably with a sprained wrist judging from the way he holds it, but otherwise seeming fine. He's better off than her at any rate, her head still pounds.

"You okay?" He asks and she nods.

"Comms to the Cave are down." She says, recapping the sit. Worry boils in her like an all swallowing pit, hurting and making its presence known. "They're never down."

Duke nods, expression grim. "At least we know where the shit's going down."

That sentence makes her heart beat faster than it should.


	13. The Beginning Of The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ps, for some ghost-Rachel action go check out my, Paraphernalia Of The Dead.

 

Bruce knows something is wrong the moment the comms fluctuate and Nyssa's cowl audio cuts from the speakers.

GLADIS starts to speak, sounding rushed as Bruce stands abruptly, ignoring the ache in his knee. _**Intruder in the- warn- warni- warni-**_

Her voice stumbles over the words and gives out with a static _scream_ as Bruce's shoulders tense harder than a steel rod. The monitors turn into white blurs of interference and the normally soothing blue light turns a sickening red.

 **Lock down initiated** , a mellow, strict voice says, separate from GLADIS' mainframe in the fact that this one is the one to announce lockdown and do no more. A paranoid habit Bruce had transferred over to Nyssa, giving her the idea to try and make the Manor as infallible as possible.

The girl was a genius - completely underrated. Truly.

Barbara bursts through the library clock door, sharp heels clicking on the metal stairs as she flushes down them, Cass and Damain hot on her heels. The possibility (and bleak hope) that Bruce is hallucinating all but vanishes.

"What's happened, Bruce?" Barbara thunders, Cass flanking off to her left and Damian flooding forward as they hit the ground floor.

"Lockdown," he says, "There's no immediate reason for why though."

He's not an idiot. He knows the monitors and GLADIS (the AI especially) will never shut down forcefully unless there has been outside interference. Even with an intruder on the grounds.

"Is GLADIS still online?" Cass murmurs and Bruce shakes his head as they all gather round him, staring at the monitors that flash with interference as if they will tell them the secrets to life.

"Something must be messing with the mainframe." Jarvis says from the top of the stairs as he enters the Cave, shutting the door behind him. "I borrowed Nyssa's laptop to enter the server and it crashed."

"It's not one of my people, " Damian says instantly.

"No," Bruce says and he knows Damian wouldn't do this because while he is in the Manor GLADIS runs their protection and keeps them safe. None of his kids would risk their own safety over information for their own needs, he's trained them better than that. Especially here, of all places. "Nyssa hooked the power box up to a non-descript one in the sewers. If it had been tampered with then the entire system would be in darkness. Our current generators have failed due to the interference and we're now relying on the backup one."

"So whoever's doing this is doing this from inside the mainframe," Barbara grits out. "This got anything to do with GLADIS broadcasting something about an intruder all over the Manor before she went out?"

Bruce is silent as he mulls over that.

"It's possible," Jarvis nods from behind them all.

"If GLADIS is hacked how much will be lost?" Cassandra asks.

 _Everything,_ Bruce thinks but knows better than to say. He doesn't know to an extent what Nyssa has done to the system but he knows it won't crumble like a biscuit under a bit of pressure. His daughter is smart, she would know what to do.

Now, if that biscuit were to be soaked in water for a prolonged period then have pressure applied to it unimaginably... _that_ would be a different story altogether.

He wishes she were here, in the Cave, now, but he's not as selfish as to risk anything. For all he knows it's some sort of glitch.

Although, Bruce's pretty sure this is no glitch.

"Some," he says and a low static infused voice laughs somewhere within the caverns. The sound carries and his three kids around him are all squaring off to the air faster than he can blink.

"Not just _some_ , Wayne." The voice, masculine and harsh, says. It seemingly comes from the stairs and his eyes snap over to the shadows that lurk there and find a glowing blue eye staring back at him, unblinking. "All of it."

Damian snaps to first, katana drawn within seconds. The eye shudders a terrible carmine and the figure starts walking at a slow, sedate pace.

 _Interesting,_ Bruce thinks but his attention is drawn away from it as his heart thunders in his ears, thumping against his ribs and swelling in its place.

When the man walks out far enough, all weapons (consisting of Damian's katana, Barbara's hidden gun and Cass' dagger) are trained on him. Bruce finds he wears the oddest black cape that very well could be a shawl. He has scuffed boots that are barely visible in the red flush of the Cave and a hood that covers his face for all but that gleaming red eye.

The man walks with a clink and a rising limp which entices Bruce to believe he has a fake limb somewhere, most likely for a leg.

"Such a shame I'm late," he says, his calm voice bouncing off the walls so much like thunder that it startles Bruce. "I was hoping to catch Batwoman before she left but you know how it is; you give some criminals an upgrade and they go a bit power crazy, huh? I suppose you'll have to do."

"How did you get in here?" Damian growls, voice spelling out each and every threat that he has not yet said. Bruce wonders what the man meant by upgrade, and if that could have anything to do with why the Royal Flush Gang weren't picked up by GLADIS. If so, Nyssa and Duke had just walked into something much more dangerous than they'd all originally thought.

The man laughs, sharper in pitch this time, and shakes his head. "That's not for any of you lot to worry about, not right now at least."

A hulking stick-like thing rises from behind him and steals forward a meter. When it ventures into the light Bruce shivers as he sees the metal frame of what appears to be a skeletal spider (made of _metal)_ with a small box for a body. Long sharp daggers sit on the end of each of its eight legs and it pulls one along the floor, marking it crudely as a shrill screech rings out. The sound makes the air feel hollow and insignificant.

Damian and Cassandra share a fleeting glance and spring forward, tag teaming the man who blasts them away with a blue shimmering forcefield and a wicked laugh. Barbara tugs at his sleeve, gun clutched close as she hustles him down the podium and over to the stairs, pulling Jarvis along for the ride too.

The spider makes a long noisy scream as they try to rush by, to get to the stairs, jumping in front of them. It flexes its legs menacingly, lowering the small box of a body before its shoots up fifty feet in the air, legs out drawn like knives.

Barbara pushes him as softly as possible to the side, shouting, "Go! Get upstairs!"

Then her gun is in front of her, her aim true as she fires a warning shot and hits a stalactite that doesn't budge. The spider screams once more, warningly now as it lands from its jump meters away from the woman. It drives two of its legs at Barbara as she rolls out of the way.

"Go!" She screams and Bruce catches a harried glimpse of Cassandra and Damian being pushed back by the man and decides its for the better. Jarvis gives him a look.

"What?" He hisses as they hurry to the stairs.

"I meant nothing of it," he says, shaking his head. "It just looked as if you were considering your options."

"Is that not the smart thing to do?" He snarls.

"You know what I meant."

They make it into the kitchen and something shudders by the island. Jarvis stops first and Bruce catches on, clutching his walking stick close. He has a blade in it, he can use it should need be.

Another spider, smaller yet more lethal looking with scarred metal and creaking limbs, is rustling through the cabinets looking for who knows what.

"Hey!" Bruce bellows, throwing the unsheathed walking stick at the thing as it shudders and looks over at them. With satisfaction rising in him, Bruce scowls at the now impaled spider.

He'd liked that cabinet, too.

"Bruce Wayne..." It's voice, definitely feminine, glitches halfway through it's sentence, emitting a horrible screech of static. "...Jarvis Pennyworth..."

Jarvis shifts beside him, a gun in his hands from seemingly nowhere. "What shall we do, sir?"

" _Exterminate!"_ The spider howls suddenly, shaking like it's about to implode. It sounds strikingly like one of those Dard's from Doctor Who. Bruce hits the ground with a grunt, body narrowly missing the island and colliding painfully with the tiled floor as an explosive bubble pops seemingly from behind them, pushing them both down.

"I see you found my other little one, Wayne." C'vargén says, stalking forward in Bruce's tilted vision. The man crouches down in front of him, hitting Jarvis with a pulse of energy as the butler tries to shoot him. "So Bruce, what do you say about a little field trip?"

Black consumed him as a metal fist came down.


	14. Every Story Has Its Downfall

 

"Wonder how Artie an' 'Zarro are," Jason grunts from his place beside her on the couch, flicking through the tv channels. He stiffens suddenly, his arm coiling around her like a snake protecting its prey.

Rachel pulls her head from his chest and blinks up at him. His face is frozen in a blank look. "What?" She questions.

Jason frowns, "Artemis and Bizarro are..." He looks down at her questioningly. "Who are they?"

Rachel doesn't waste time thinking about her answer as it rolls off her tongue, "They're our friends. Our team members--"

She pauses and Jason gives her a look saying that he'd came upon the exact same thing.

"If they're the other Outlaws then why were we with Kori an' Roy?"

Rachel's eyes widen at the prospect of realisation. "We've been tricked. We've been fucking tricked, _god damn it_."

"To the Manor?" Jason asks.

_Fuck it,_ Rachel thinks, bolting to get her suit on.

"Yes. To the Manor, Jase."

 

 

-/-/-

 

 

Barbara drops into a swift roll that her back protests as the spider lunges at where she'd stood seconds before. Her teeth grind together harder than a corn mills' grinder as she pulls up her gun and hits the damn monstrosity in the thing's tiny box of a body.

It screams and, if possible, lunges at her quicker the next time round.

Cass and Damian are over by the turn table, swapping blows with the man surrounded by the blue bubble. Barbara takes a moment to wonder why he would attack now, when almost the entire family was... was _home._ Either it was a bad coincidence or it had been wholly on purpose.

He had said he'd wanted to catch Nyssa before she went out but that didn't necessarily indicate any death wishes. Though he had hinted to _upgrading_ criminals which spelled bad news for them all if he decided to amass an army through these 'upgrades'.

"Begone!" Damian thunders, voice like sand sifting through rubble it's so slippery with anger. Barbara spares him a glance long enough to see him dropping down from a stalactite, sword pulled behind him, ready to strike.

The spider gnaws at her, snapping its legs in a traumatising crescendo of movement that never ends. Barbara's forced to concentrate on her own fight if she wants to live to see the sun set.

Then, it happens so quick, Barbara wonders if she's seeing things.

One of many secret tunnel door's slides open with a near indistinguishable click and an unforgettable helmet of blood with glowing white eyes charges through, a woman draped in shadows and carmine following seconds later.

"Hope we didn't miss much!" Jason crows, guns twirling into his hands as he lines up his barrel with the spider that deems Barbara unimportant and turns to stalk over to the undead man of the past.

It goes down three bullets and one loud, ear splitting screech later.

Rachel's twirling her twin swords, a bored expression on her face as she spares their only standing intruder a look.

"Looks like we got here just in time, Hood." She purrs, voice like diamonds and exactly as Barbara remembers. It makes something in her twist, knowing that this woman is not theirs.

Jason looks up from where he'd been poking the spider, giving it one last kick for good measure. His gaze - Barbara assumes - lands on the man and he nods, standing to shimmy with his black jacket. "Seems so, sweetheart."

"C'vargén!" Jason growls, storming forward, past his wife, a cloud of threatening magnitude swarming above and behind him. It takes Barbara a moment to realise he's said the inturders name as it sounds more like 'car-var-gin'.

C'vargén bats Cassandra and Damian away once more with a burst of the force field, thanks to a flick of his wrist.

"Ah," he hums, head tilting to show more of his seemingly metal-plated face. "It's actually 'car-varg-an', but I won't hold New Gaelic against you. It hasn't been formed yet, anyhow, not in this time."

That throws Barbara for a loop. What does the man mean by--

_He's_ _a time traveller_ , she realises. How did they not realise this sooner? All the hints were there, black out zones over their scanners thanks to mysterious tech, Rachel and Jason appearing in their time, followed by weird shit happening.

Why _not_ a time traveller?

God, they're all so stupid.

This doesn't seem to faze neither Rachel or Jason, though. Jason makes that particularly clear by laughing loudly (and it sounds _just a tad_ unhinged, may Barbara add) and growling out something remarkably close to a threat.

"Take us back to our time."

"Can't I'm afraid," C'vargén says and he doesn't seem sorry at all. In fact, he seems positively _overjoyed_ as he simply shrugs. "Things still need to be done, some more need to happen. You know how it is, Hood. Always something left to do before you can rest easy, yes?"

Rachel saunters forward, confidence lifting her gait like always. It sends a fond, longing pang through Barbara's chest and _god,_ how she wishes she was still alive in their time in that moment once more.

"You did well, C'vargén," Rachel says, accent lining her words like it does when she's irritated. "But I advise you take us home before something _terrible_ were to befall you."

C'vargén, so unlike others who've faced Rachel's rage, laughs. He laughs so loudly the bats in the Cave scream and for a good few minutes everyone's in a standstill, the only sound the rushed flapping of disgruntled wings.

Then, "Now, Carla!"

And the spider arises like a fucking _zombie_ , clambouring to its feet and crawling along to the computer as all eight legs fail to hold up its weight. Barbara is frozen in horror and shock as it pulls itself to the monitor and stabs a long piercer through it, pulling it down with a long jerk that has wires spilling out and the metal ripping and tearing like cold butter under a warm knife.

GLADIS' scream rings out for all to hear and Barbara knows the AI's being hacked. The monitors red lockdown lights flicker and suddenly they're in darkness. Complete and utter darkness.

"'Wing!" Jason's shouting and suddenly a crack echos and there's a smooth green light bathing them all, the source a small glowstick in Rachel's hand. The duo waste no time in bickering or orienting themselves in the light like Barbara and the other two do, instead they both rush forward, Rachel already pulling out a small device.

The glowstick is shoved into her hands and Barbara is forced to grip it tight so that it won't slide through her sweaty palms.

"Catch," Rachel shouts and the small device is flung at Jason who doesn't break his furious pace as he jumps like a baseballer to catch it, throwing it at the spider's bulking outline in the same breath.

They're rewarded with a fizzling squelch and Jason grunting as he reaches the main console, jumping onto the podium. He pulls the carcass off the computer's base with the fiickle ease of one unaffected by time.

Damian hisses something over to Barbara's left as she stomps up behind Rachel, intent on trying to help. She figures C'vargén is probably gone, judging from how the two behind her are whispering.

"I'll go check on B and Jarvis." Cass offers for them all before she's gone, pulling back the clock without waiting for anyone's consent. The light that flounders over them is breif and also a cruel bloodshot red.

"Shit," Jason curses as Barbara reaches him and Rachel thanks to the still-there stairs. The  both of them are gathered around the computer, Jason standing and Rachel sitting regally in the high backed chair.

"Can you do anything, baby?"

The question is obviously aimed at Rachel and the woman seems to know it before it's even spoken, as her hands shoot off, dancing along the keyboard anyway.

"GLADIS should not be completely gone," Damian says, sheathing his katanas as he climbs the podium in one swift movement.

"Unless that spider was a Time Ship AI's vessel," Rachel snaps back. The feeling of dread grows in Barbara's stomach as nothing but error signs and scratchy coding pop up on the barely functioning screen, cracked from the spiders' heavy descent upon it.

Jason's gloved hand goes to one of Rachel's shoulders, "There should be backdoors GLAD' could've 'scaped from, though, right?"

A pause. "None that I can see, they've all been blocked off, their opening commands aren't responding to prodding."

Now, Barbara may not be all into the Bat Computer like she once was, with the tech slowly changing over time. Plus, god knows how many times Nyssa's updated and changed the mainframe.

Nevertheless, she can tell this is bad. No, she _knows_ this is worse than bad - it's _catastrophic_. The fact that Rachel is navigating as seemlessly as is possible through tech almost fifty years ahead of her slips her mind completely.

"What about any God Codes?" She asks, stomach shrivelling up more than a prawn. "Are any of them responding?"

Rachel clicks her tongue, "If I'm correct you still have two people out there on the field. I'd rather not accidentally destroy the entire mainframe with--"

"She's down anyway, Rache." Jason grunts, "If she's nowhere to be found it's safe to assume the spider's eat'n her."

"Coding and all?" Damian sneers, arms crossed.

Jason turns a threatening glower on the - technically - older man. "Do I look like a fuckin' tech genius, brat?"

They look ready to continue on but Casandra bursts through the clock door, rushed breathing echoing in the Cave. "Bruce is gone," she says, words hurried. "And so is Jarvis!"

"What?" Barbara isn't sure who says the words but they're definitely said.

Cass nods, hands twisting in front of her. "Signs of a struggle too. I- I think C'vargén got them."


	15. Realizations or Revelations

 

Damian rolls his eyes, obviously trying to stay calm. "How so? We would've known if he went up there. The clock let light through when you opened it, Cain."

Cass seems certain her guess is correct and Jason decides to stand by her, if only for the reason he doesn't like this snarky older Damian and because it's _he_ who's opposing Cass.

"Let's say he did get them," and he may not know who this Jarvis is but he won't let that get to him, "Is there any other ways up there that me and Rachel wouldn't know about?"

"Not that I can-- _oh,"_ Barbara trails off, suddenly looking very concerned. Her following words are rushed, "There's a hidden elevator in the general direction where C'vargén appeared. He could've known about it and used it when the lights went off, it's soundless really and there's no lights in it due to it being more recently put in."

"Nyssa also isn't a fan of bright lights after an all-nighter." Duke says as a passage way opens up and he limps through, relief colouring his cheeks. He pauses long enough in the doorway for a boot to push out and kick his ass out of the way.

"Like you'd know that, Duke. I just haven't gotten round to putting them in yet." A woman trudges through, gait shivering from the lack of oxygen, scowl firmly planted on her lips. Honestly, if the ache in his stomach where he'd been punched by this exact same woman didn't start up, Jason may've been able to say she was pretty.

As it was, Nyssa Wayne pulled off her cowl and squinted at the monitor, then at them. She looked stuck somewhere between disbelief and anger. "What happened to my computer?"

No one seemed willing to speak up.

After a moment of silence Rachel shrugged. "Shit happened."

"Shit happened?" Nyssa echoed sarcastically. "No fucking way. Where's B?"

"He's missing," Jason said.

"What?" Nyssa's tone faltered, something like real worry breaking through before she blinked at Barbara. "Is that true?"

"Yes," Babs said, looking down. "C'vargén - the man behind this all - has appeared to have taken him and Jarvis."

"Fucking hell, god damn asshole can't keep his feet on the ground for one minute - _I_ _swea_ _r._ " Nyssa stormed right for the monitor and fell to her knees on the podium, pushing away the last remaining chair and lifting up a trapdoor Jason hadn't known was there to pull out what appeared to be a metal box. She unlatched it to reveal a small military style computer.

Typing furiously on it, the red lockdown lights reappeared then disappeared, fading into a blinding white that seemed to light up the entire pitch black hole they stood in. A few seconds later, GLADIS' emblem of a swirly 'G' popped up on the small screen.

**_My deepest apologies, Mistress--_ **

"There's no time for that, GLADIS." Nyssa hissed, hands still flying over the small keyboard as she worked to resurface GLADIS' coding without damaging any of it. "Can you track Bruce and Jeeves?"

GLADIS faltered, **_I'm afraid I can not within such a short period of time after having my main core de--_**

"Don't blow a circuit, GLADIS." Nyssa growled. When she stood, the bruises around her neck glowed starkly in the frozen white of the Cave. Jason wondered if there was something they'd been missing, a pool of confusion growing in his gut by the second. "I'm the one that has to fix them. Duke?"

"Yeah?" The man, who seemed a tad shell-shocked - like them all - as Cass whispered the whole situation to him, jolted his head up in awknowledgement. "Wha'd'ya need, kid?"

Nyssa sucked in a breath, gathering a plan in the fire of the moment. The aftermath was always the hardest to deal with, Jason knew that from experience. "Our main generators' have been hacked and locked down - hence why the lights went off. Main functions are still down and you're handy with a screwdriver, if I remember right, though hopefully you won't need it. Can you turn the one in the alcove behind the Penny on?"

"No problemo, Niss." Duke nodded and set out to do just that, heading off to find a tool box by a line of dull metal cupboards at the side, that had been - miraculously - left untouched.

"Cass, I trust that you've sweeped the place. You and Damian are on stand-by for anything that tries to get us while everything's down. Patrol the grounds, yeah? Take these-"

Nyssa threw the pair an old comm each. "I previously modified them to work without the mainframe should such a thing arise, ping them and any one of us'll pick up but we'll all hear the message. Good? Thanks."

Damian looked ready to protest, his hand shooting to his katana's handle but Cass grabbed ahold of his arm and pulled him along with her, away from the Cave.

"Very well."

"Make sure to pick up a comm, Duke." Nyssa said. She threw one at him when he turned around anyway.

Nyssa nodded at them and Jason realised they were the only ones left. "Um, you two could... babysit GLADIS?"

"Really?" Jason snorted and the apologetic look Nyssa sent him was real.

"Well, I mean- you guys could check out the elevator. Reorientate yourselves, y'know. Do some detective work? I'm not sure, feel free to do _anything_ that won't kill us."

"And what will you be doing?" Rachel questioned sharply as Nyssa headed straight for the line of cabinets that Duke had pulled his tool box from earlier. She pulled out a similar looking, blue tool box and winked at them.

"I'll be goin' in to fix the other generator."

"Which is where?" Rachel asked before Jason could. "I was under the impression you merely had to turn it on?"

Nyssa jabbed a finger at the deeper recesses of the Cave, where it turned into deep swallowing caverns. "Over there. I'll be back soon, don't worry. I'll only have to reboot it, maybe. Just keep an eye on GLADIS and give us a shout when she's close to rebooting, if you could."

Then the woman was gone. Jason sighed and Rachel dropped her ass onto the podium in a huff.

"Well," he cleared his throat. "One step closer to getting home. Yeah, baby?"

Rachel glowered at him before jumping off the podium. "Let's go check out that elevator."

Jason sighed and followed.

_One step closer to the stairs or to the edge?_ He wondered in parenthesis. He never could tell with these sorts of things until it was too late.


	16. Cool Down Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been editing through this book guys, before the finale, and gosh... I've changed so much of it from dates to entire scenes. I highly recommend rereading.

 

Cassandra watched Damian as he slouched by the front porch, frown embedded so deep on his face his wrinkles had formed around it. He looked like he'd aged since he'd came to the Manor. Most likely from the stress. Cass didn't doubt the man couldn't wait to get to his lonely, scorching desert.

He had to be a masochist.

There was no other explanation. Who willingly lived in the desert that was truly a desert and not Las Vegas or somewhere cultured?

(Not that the desert _wasn't_ cultured. But _still_.)

"If Father is gone what does Nyssa intend to get by taking control?" He hissed. "Does she think we will bow to her?"

"You obviously think she wants that," Barbara said, appearing from the dark wooden doors. Cassandra stared at her from where her elbows were going cold leaning against the stone railings. The other woman shot Damian a side-eyed glare. "The kid's not that bad."

"Odd to see you sticking up for her," Cass hummed, not actively pushing for a fight but more willing to add fuel to the fire that was Damian Al Ghul Wayne. "I was under the impression you didn't like her."

"As was I," Damain ground out, tone dark.

"You don't need to like someone to stick up for them," Barbara said softly. She looked like she was becoming nostalgic and for a moment Cass almost mentally berated her before realising that _that_ was what age did to you.

It made you go soft; age. It had been her blood father's downfall; the man had always been too soft at heart and too greedy. It was destined to come back for him in the end.

Age came for you in the end, too. It ripped and it shredded and it followed you everywhere you went, like death, you were never left alone.

"Is this because Rachel is back?" Damian asked, a snap to his tone that had been gone for years. His eyes were alight with the blaze of his fury. "Has your heart returned in full force now that you've been reminded of your family?"

"You're one to speak, asshole." Barbara snipped back, striding to stand between them, forming a triangle of sorts. "Like that didn't shock you."

"It shocked me," Cass added because it _had._ Seeing Jason for the first time since they fished that lifeless husk out of the Dam's Reservoir had horrified her for a second, before the man had spoken breaking the silence she'd been trapped in. And then, as if to mock the past forty years she and the rest of them had slaved through, Rachel _joined_ him, fighting by his side with that deadly aura of years gone by. Cassandra had been _terrified._

Because isn't that the normal human reaction? To be scared when the man that killed three of your family appears in the same room as you, even if over thirty years later? To have that urge for revenge ravage your veins and nerves once more?

To want to kill the **traitor.**

Okay, maybe that last one is more assassin training influenced, but who knows?

Barbara blinked at her and seemed to deflate when she sighed. "I don't think Nyssa wants power, Damian," she says, pulling the conversation back. "She's just as in the dark as we are and it's not like any of us even know the Cave well enough to run it."

Damian opened his mouth to protest.

"No," Barbara forged on. "Don't try to argue on that, we all know it. The Cave's changed that much that it has an _elevator_ in it. Tell me, you think that Bruce was behind that?"

"Of course not," Damian rebuked, stance wide but high. He was ready to run should need be. Cassandra was sure he was overreacting.

"Right. It's obviously been Nyssa. Honestly, I think new blood - younger blood - is _good._ For both Bruce and us. Let her lead for now and if she needs help, we can offer it."

"Just whose side are you on, Gordon?" Damian growled.

Barbara shrugged, hair flipping in front of her and casting a long shadow over her face. "The one that needs it."

 

 

-/-/-

 

 

"S'cool," Jason said, looking around. The elevator was big enough to fit four possibly, with its sleek black walls and control panel. True to earlier words, there was no light in it and the door had opened up silently.

"Guess it is," Rachel huffed, frowning. She was in a bad mood, either because they'd been here for _too long_ or because she was coming onto her period.

Truth be told, Jason couldn't tell anymore.

"You know the date, babe?" He asked, jabbing the button to take them up. The doors slid shut revealing a shiny black reflection of them, Rachel's was slightly distorted but his was completely clear as he was closer. A slight crack down the middle drew his eyes, almost as if someone had punched it, scuff marks and all.

Rachel cast him a glance, not having noticed it yet. "No."

"Ah, sweet." He answered, only minorly distracted. His hand reached out to trace the score's width. "It's the 22nd."

"Of what?" Rachel noticed what he was poking at and peered closer.

"March." He answered pulling up his suit's holo display to take a picture.

"Is that so?" Rachel asked, uninterested as she dismissed the mark. Jason leaned back, keeping it in mind.

"Y'know what I seen?" He smirked giddily, tuning into the conversation.

"What?" She was definitely bored now.

The doors opened sleekly into B's Study, first floor. Ace perked his head up from behind the Chesterfield, whining at them when they stepped out.

"Heya boy," Rachel cooed, rubbing the dog's ears as he poked his nose at her legs when she walked over to him. "You missed us?"

Ace's eyes lit up at his wife's actions but when Jason approached he growled and stood from his relaxed slouch, baring sharp teeth.

"Fiesty as ever," Jason chuckled, slightly put off. "Well, seen in the paper that the 21st March was your birthday."

"You know that isn't true, Jase." Rachel rubbed at Ace's neck, jostling his collar which clattered. She giggled to the dog, "You've gotten older boy, haven't you? You sure look it."

True to it, the dog did look tired and greyer than Jason's memories held him to be. Nevertheless, Ace snapped at her playfully before rolling over onto his stomach to give Rachel access. She obliged happily, smirking.

"Rachel," Jason grunted, pulling her attention back to him. She shot him an annoyed look in sync with Ace. "I know that. Your birthday's on November the 11th, so why are they saying it's on March the 21st?"

"I don't know," Rachel shrugged, not seeing his point. "What are you getting to?"

"We've had these before, Rache." He hinted, "Others in the Fam have fallen into them."

Rachel stopped playing with Ace, looking up to him fully now. "We've already talked about this, we agreed we were in a paradox or something. Right?"

"Another world, baby." Jason said, placing all the pieces of the game on the table for the first time in seven days. "Today's March 28th. Back home it was October. Something is obviously fishy there, because time travel tends to just fling you a couple years ahead unless explicitly made to do so. Top that off with your birthday being diff'rent and possible changes that we haven't yet noticed."

"Holy shit," Rachel cursed, then cursed in Kalderash and again in French. Jason laughed, unbidden, at the colourful selection. "So, this C'vargén has either fucked up big time on accident or this is on purpose."

"Just what I was thinking." He nodded. "That or he's insane. It's hard to tell with these types."

"No shit, Sherlock." Rachel deadpanned.

Jason chuckled, "Did you watch that all yet?"

"Some of it," Rachel admitted. "It's too long for me, really. Two hours for one episode is a bit much."

_"As much as I enjoy listening to how much Rachel loves Sherlock, I could really do with you guys doing something productive."_ Nyssa's voice chirped over the comms making them both jump. Ace looked up at them curiously before lying his head back down.

"You were listening?" Jason asked incredulously. He hadn't been aware the comm was on. His gut twisted.

_"Yeah,"_ Nyssa laughed. _"Thankfully just tuned in at the no shit Sherlock, who knows what other things you've been gossiping about."_

"And what about everyone else?" Rachel asked, suddenly looking very put out.

_"What?"_ Nyssa asked. _"Oh, you talking about that thing about everyone hearing the conversation? That was bullshit. I just hate people randomly speaking over the line. Sorry 'bout that."_

He and Rachel shared an incredulous look. _What an_ _odd_ _girl._

_"Anyway, it's close to one or something so if you guys wanna corral everyone to the kitchen for lunch that would be nice. Afterwards if you come down to the Cave with me and help I might be able to contact Rip and his people."_

"The Legends?" Jason confirmed.

_"Yep,"_ Nyssa hummed. She sounded llike she was smiling. _"Who else would I contact for something like this? The League?"_

Rachel rolled her eyes and went back to petting Ace. Jason didn't respond.

_"Okay then,"_ Nyssa said, something weird in her tone. Almost unforgiving yet not, it was more... _cold._ Harsher than Jason was used to when people were a hero and talking about the League. _"Sure. Whatever. I'll try and help you guys after lunch. Make sure to be free."_

She signified her signing off with a click.

"Well," Jason started.

"That went well," Rachel finished.

Ace barked.


	17. Time For Tales

 

"What's it like, suddenly coming from 2027 to 2068?" Duke asked, all innocent curiosity.

It reminded Rachel of those years from long ago, before Bruce had 'died' and before she'd become Mayor, when she'd picked the boy up off the streets and given him a home. His tone was stronger now of course, but the look in his eyes was the same youthful glint he'd had when he asked if it was hard fighting crime in heels.

"Weird," Jason answered for them both, munching on his salad. Apparently if Nyssa was vegan, it meant no meat. (Not that she was complaining, but she was sure she'd never hear the end of it later from Jason.) "It was October back home, we were getting ready to jet back for the Hallow's Gala."

"The Hallow's Gala?" Barbara echoed, eyes sharp and keen. The woman hadn't changed at all aside from the gun that had a permanent resting place on her waist and the greying hair.

Cass raised an eyebrow to show her mirrored confusion.

_Odd_. Rachel would've thought they'd remember something so big and extravagant that happened _every year_.

Jason seemed amused, "Y'all don't remember?"

"Don't waste your precious breath explaining it for us, dear _brother_." Damian snapped, rolling his eyes, posture firm but lax. He was listening closely.

Rachel decided to waste her breath. "The gala that happens every Halloween?"

Blank faces met her words.

Something clicked inside of her head. Maybe Jason _was_ right about that world thing.

"What world is this?" She questioned suddenly.

"What?" Nyssa blinked. "World 11, what other one would it be--" But Jason had already chocked on his coke, ducking his head as he cleaned his mouth, chuckling.

"Told ya," was his gruff but smug reply. Rachel huffed out an exasperated sigh.

"We missing something?" Duke muttered, eyes bright with unease. He'd always disliked being left out of the plans, his or not.

"Not really." Jason snickered, resting a callused hand on her thigh to signify he'd deal with this. Rachel doubted he had the diplomatic skills to do such a thing but kept quiet anyway. "It's just, ya see, we're from World 1."

The others paused, reeling back as their mind's spun webs.

"How can we be sure of this?" Cass asked instantly, squinted eyes showing her distrust. Rachel was proud of her thoroughness, if a tad annoyed that it was aimed at them and holding the show up.

"Tell ya what," Jason started but Rachel was drawing a blank, how would he prove something as finicky as inter-world travel? "Everyone answer this; when did Rachel break her back?"

"2020," Rachel winced, barely able to keep the onslaught of memories down.

( _"-multiple vertebral compression fractures-"_ )

They gawked.

"You broke your back?" Barbara looked ready to cry.

( _"Is that-- bad?"_ )

"What the hell?" Duke rumbled.

( _"Yes."_ )

"In 2020 Thomas was adopted, Todd." Damian sneered, obviously not believing her husband's (or her) words. "Nothing else of note happened that year."

( _"She'll be lucky if she can ever walk again."_ )

Well, inter-dimensional-world travel confirmed. Rachel coughed out a sob that she hoped sounded like a laugh. Jason squeezed her thigh but otherwise, the others made no signs if they'd heard.

"Duke was never adopted, Damian." She said, voice hardening with the truth. "When did Bruce die for you?"

"2031," Cass murmured softly.

"For a week or something," Nyssa added.

Damian nodded, "Father was thought dead for six days and three hours. Darkseid merely kidnapped him."

Jason shook his head. "Our Bruce was skipping through time for _three_ _years_."

No one spoke.

Cass cleared her throat daintily, "What do we do now?"

"We--" Nyssa stood. Lunch was over. "Come. I'll contact the Legends."

 

 

-/-/-

 

 

"Thank god the Legends love me," Nyssa muttered hysterically. GLADIS' box was glowing, still on the podium, but the younger woman didn't seem to notice instead focusing on rooting through the very same trap door she'd pulled it out of.

"Lucky," Jason chuckled, hands on his hips. His suit had no pockets which was rather impractical. "Constantine thinks our Mansion's haunted and refuses to come twenty yards near us."

Nyssa laughed, the sound distorting as she ducked down to tug at something.

"Just what do you have in there?" Rachel tilted her head.

Nyssa shrugged easily and emerged with a small round box. It opened up like a shoebox, revealing a glittering array of three buttons and one dusty, cracked screen.

"Lots of things," she smirked calmly. Internally Rachel was panicking, heart thumping so quick she feared she'd faint. Nyssa brushed the dust off the device, whistling as she surveyed the state it was in. "Well, certainly not in the best of conditions but it  _is_ at least a decade old."

"That the communicator?" Jason tried to confirm.

"Obviously," Nyssa hummed, she pushed down one of the far right switches and they all watched as it spun in place and slowly the communicator chugged to life. She hit a second button and a small keyboard unfolded from within the box.

It was pretty small.

"It's..." Rachel hesitiated. _"Small."_

("Size doesn't matter."

"Are you sure?")

Nyssa nodded, "But it works like a charm. We should be getting options on who to contact in a few seconds."

True to her words, the box pinged softly as countless white letters started forming sentences on the black screen.

Rachel and Jason crowded closer.

Helena, _W2._ One read.

Kara, _W38._ Said another.

Nyssa twisted a scoll-looking dial and pulled a garish purple highlight down to a third one.

The Legends of Tomorrow, _Time Stream._

"So predictable," smiled the girl as she tapped on it. The screen changed to a static flushed white and faint moving things were discernable.

"Oi, Hunter! What the Hell's this thing doin'?" An all too familiar voice croaked, hoarse from smoke.

"What, John?" Jason smirked at the Co-Captain's tone as Nyssa shook her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. Rachel was too nervous to do anything but shift closer awkwardly. "By the almighty's-- don't touch that!"

An image of a groggy looking blond with an appalling trench coat showed up, paired with the sight of a man in a similar trench coat, looking just as appalled. Nyssa chuckled.

"Alright shut it, Hunter." She spoke up, voice surprisingly clear despite how she seemed to mumble in general. "It was me who touched it."

"Oh sweet guacamole," John cursed, pulling up a bottle of whiskey to chug.

"Ms Wayne," Rip looked surprised. "How to nice to see you again--"

"I don't know 'bout you, Hunter, but I damned wished I'd never see her again." John sighed, rubbing at his face, adding a quick, "No offense, love."

"None taken," Nyssa smirked. "And it's nice to see you again too, Hunter."

Rip seemed to swallow though it was hard to make out with the terrible quality of the stream, joined with the lurking crack, making the screen look miserable as it tried its best to project the images. "I've told you to just call me Rip, Ms Wayne."

"I'll do that when you start calling me Nyssa, _Captain."_

John choked on his drink. "Aye, right. Stop flirtin' with me Cap'n and tell us why you're callin'."

Rip flushed red as Nyssa cackled.

"That would be where we come in," Jason started. John caught sight of them first, as Jase tugged them both into sight, and paled visibly. Rip just raised an eyebrow. "We sorta need a ride home."

"Aw, Hell no." John chuckled, waving his hands and backing away like that one time a dead man had stood up and proclaimed himself to be Lucifer Morningstar. "I thought I said to stop messin' with demons, Todd."

"He did," Rachel quickly rose to her husband's defense. "We ran into a Time Master in Mexico and he decided to make a grudge against the Waynes."

"So this Time Master left you both in 2068?" Rip looked annoyed. "Do you know who it was?"

"Called himself C'vargén," Nyssa glowered.

The reaction was immediate.

John dropped his bottle and Rip turned so pale he looked grey.

"What's happened?" A female voice echoed on the Waverider's side. John, the more self-aware of the two men, turned and muttered something off-screen.

Sara strode into view, face and voice tight. John tugged Rip away, out of sight. "You've been targeted by C'vargén of Slomah?"

"Not sure about that last bit, but he sure as hell called himself C'vargén." Nyssa growled, offering Sara a nod.

"Took his time in it too," Jason said, "According to Babs."

"You're in contact?" Sara asked.

"Bruce summoned the whole _family,_ Canary." Nyssa rolled her eyes. "Then he went and got himself kidnapped, course."

"Bruce was kidnapped?" John looked shocked, peeping his head up from behind Sara.

"He's not Batman no more, Constantine." Nyssa hissed. "He's older now, 'member?"

"Of course I do," John spat defensively.

"That doesn't stop it being shockin'." Jason added.

"If Slomah's in the area we'll have to be quick about extraction," Sara said decisively, salvaging the conversation's topic. "Is waiting two days okay?"

"Sure," Nyssa said for them, jumping in before they could say anything. The look on her face dared the Legends to talk back. "I'm pulling them into my rescue op. anyway."


	18. Securing Our Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five chapters left at the max.

 

Jason brushed a stray hair out of Rachel's face as she emptied her stomach into the porcelain toilet bowl.

"It'll be alright," he soothed quietly. Her back jumped as she spat out more bile and Jason could practically feel her pain at this point.

He commended her for living with a broken back and still pushing on. Some said going for Mayorship was definitely the best thing that had ever happened to her and he agreed, although he had been staunchly against it at first. Becoming Mayor had boosted her sudden nonexistent confidence and the liking the people had taken to her was uncanny.

"Don't feel well," she groaned, pulling him into the present. Her cerulean blue eyes glittered up at him from where she'd smushed her cheek against the toilet seat, skin clammy and pale.

"Could it be something you ate?" He asked because it hadn't been a nightmare - he knew that much.

"Nhhh," she mouthed, head snapping up to spit out bile. "Don't think so." She coughed when she'd finished, setting her off again.

A knock on the door startled them out of a stunted silence.

"Yo," Nyssa called, opening the door to their shared bedroom (of which she'd dumped them in last night). When she found a lack of her two guests, Nyssa ventured further in and peered through the open en-suite door.

The sight must've been weird, Jason reasoned. To look into an en-suite and see a bulky man like him crouched down beside a small, waif-like (she just looked _ill_ ) woman such as Rachel. On cue Rachel turned and choked up some more bile.

Nyssa took it in her stride and beamed in the doorway. "Oh! How far are you guys?"

Jason shot her a look, "What?"

"During the pregnancy," Nyssa said in explanation. "How far along are you?"

Rachel pulled her face out of the toilet and squinted at Nyssa like she'd gained a third head. Not that Jason could judge, he was doing the same thing.

"I'm not--" Rachel cut herself off. "What?"

"You haven't-?" Nyssa looked awkward now. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I'm not-- _pregnant."_

"Um, yes," Nyssa nodded pointing at her eyes. Jason knew how she knew now, she had contacts in. The system connected ones that analysed everyone you seen. "Yes, you are."

Rachel fainted, swaying into his lap.

 

 

-/-/-

 

 

Nyssa winced as Rachel dropped into Jason's lap. "Sorry, I- uh--" She watched as Jason took in a deep breath and gently hoisted Rachel up into his arms.

She scurried out of the doorway as Jason pushed by. "I can-" _take her out of the plan if you want_ , she wanted to say but couldn't. It wasn't Jason's choice, it was Rachel's and Nyssa knew what it was like to have other people decide for you. Plus, she didn't know what Jason was like - he was dead in her time and her world after all.

_God that sounds so weird_. To say people were from another world and time, just like Jarvis, was extraordinary. She hoped to befriend them now, even if only because they weren't the people she'd thought them to be.

_Damn this family and their accusations._

"It's fine," Jason grunted. "I've got it."

Nyssa wondered what he'd filled in the blanks with. She didn't bother to ask.

Silently, Nyssa watched as Jason - with utmost care alien to his hulking frame - lowered Rachel into their shared bed, draping the blanket over her.

"Guess you both didn't know then," she said, flinching as Jason jumped and turned to her. His expression was unreadable as he towered over her. Nyssa's breath caught in her throat.

Jason grunted, "Thanks."

She couldn't tell if it was sarcastic or not.

"Well, uh," she started, backing up towards the door. "I can come back later to talk you both through the plan."

Jason didn't respond, staring after her as she spun on her heels and closed the door behind her.

 

 

-/-/-

 

 

Her eyes fluttered open and Rachel was stuck staring at the ornate coffered ceiling. She was in the bed, wrapped in the fluffy blanket Jason had found in the cupboard and pulled out in the early hours of the morning. Jason, of course, was beside her, running his fingers through her short hair.

She was pregnant.

_Pregnant_.

How had Nyssa known when Rachel herself had not caught on? The contacts. GLADIS must be back online already.

She felt dizzy like she had before she'd fainted.

"Hey, baby," Jason rumbled by her head, kissing her ear lobe with chapped lips. The nickname otherwise would've made her smirk but now it just made her feel nauseous. "How d'ya feel?"

She was going to have a baby; she felt like shit.

"What if it dies again, J?" She asked quietly. "I don't think--"

"It won't." Jason said instantly, voice flowing in confidence. Her back stung as Jason wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into his large chest.

"How do you know? You can't promise anything! What if something like Deathwing comes along again and-- and--" She was hyperventilating, breaths coming in short panicked gasps that made her chest ache with phantoms of the past. "What if this one's like last time and it dies before--"

"I'll protect you both, Rachel." Jason said, body language tight and tone serious. "If we need to, we'll sit it out, go somewhere where no one can find us and raise the kid there. I'll do anything for you, Rachel, you know that."

He was rocking them back and forth and though it wasn't doing her back any favors it was calming her down. She was disgusting; pain _calmed_ her. How horrific.

"But where-?" She gasped, thick tears rolling down her cheeks like freight trains. "There's nowhere like that, Jase."

"Not in our time, no." He said, obviously working up to something. "But who said it had to be in _our_ time?"

Rachel blinked, breaths coming easier in her confusion. "What?"

"We can go to the futute, sweetie." Jason said, kissing her forehead. "Raise the kid there, and if... if it doesn't go well, no-one'll know."

She wasn't worried about that. "But we'd have no money, no security net to fall back on, there's more cons than pros in this, Jason."

Jason nodded, "How 'bout we talk to Hunter's crew when they land, ask 'em. Then we'll decide."

"Sure," she said, but they both knew she wasn't going anywhere unless they had the complete best living arrangements and circumstances for their child.


	19. They're Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was lying back in chap 13 when i said it was nearing the end. Its nearing the end now..

 

Nyssa collapsed into the last remaining swivel chair. The other one had broken with the spider crushing it when it fell.

**_Ma'am?_** GLADIS spoke, tone weary as Nyssa choked out a sob. Her hands were shaking so bad she doubted she could hold a glass should need be.

**_Mistress Nyssa?_** GLADIS asked again, **_Should I call for assistance?_**

"N-no," she gasped. Tears made her vision blurry and her mind spun like a hamster in a ball. "No."

**_How may I be of use then, my esteemed creator?_** Nyssa laughed at GLADIS' attempt at reconciliation but it fell short, turning into bodywraking hiccuping sobs that made her throat hurt.

She hadn't even done anything. Jason had stood up and looked at her like she was insignificant, nothing more than a spec of dirt--

But wasn't that all she was?

**_Breathe,_** GLADIS murmured, her voice dropping a few octaves to become calming. Her protective programming was kicking in. **_Please Mistress, there has to be someone I can call._**

Jason had to go.

"Call the Legends." She growled, elbows quivering on her knees. The monitor shone with renewed life and although GLADIS had only been up for a few hours she was completely hooked up.

GLADIS connected to the communicator, selected the LoT option and let it ring out.

Static met their efforts.

**_It appears the Time Stream is offering some interference, Ma'am. What should I do?_ **

Nyssa sucked in a breath. "Let me dictate a message."

**_Very well, I am listening._ **

"Circumstances have changed, you have one day." Nyssa ground out, "End."

**_Excellent, they shall receive it as soon as is possible._** GLADIS chimed.

"Good," She stood from her chair, breathing regulated and eyes dry. She wiped at her eyes for good measure. "I'll go tell the others--"

**_You go tidy yourself up, Ma'am._** GLADIS stopped her. **_I'll inform the rest of your guests._**

"Um," she paused, wavering on unsteady legs. "Thanks, GLADIS."

**_No problem, ma'am._ **

When Nyssa left, shutting the clock door behind her a silver emblem of S appeared on the monitors.

**_Master C'vargén,_** GLADIS spoke in her emotionless drawl. **_I have news._**

 

 

-/-/-

 

 

"If we're in agreement," Barbara called like she was the judge of the jury. They were discussing the plan to rescue Bruce and Jarvis, in the attic.

Becuase apparently, according to Nyssa, the attic was the only place GLADIS did not reach. Ergo, it was truly the only place left untouched by C'vargén's seige.

Duke liked it like that.

They'd settled around the dusty table that hadn't been touched in years, all wearing stern faces aside from Nyssa who looked on with a hollowness sleep deprivation did not bring in her eyes.

"I believe we are, Gordon." Damian clasped his hands in front of him. "Though perhaps another run-through wouldn't hurt."

"Guess not," Nyssa said, standing as she flattened out the already flush sheet of paper of which they'd drawn the mission onto. "Teams are: Rachel, Jason and I; Barbara and Duke; Damian and Cass. Respectively labelled teams 1 to 3, in that order."

"With GLADIS back up and running once more we'll use a frequency she picked up off the spider to detect Slomah's Time Ship without he or his AI knowing." The woman continued. "Once we've detected it we'll only be able to go for twenty minutes before Slomah realises we're onto him, so we have to act fast."

Jason grunted, "With the Ship located, we'll set off immediately. Team One'll branch off to the left of the Ship, from a passageway that we know of. While Team Three'll infiltrate from the cargo hold, with Two on Legend watching duty."

"Just about the most boring part of it all," Duke chuckled. "Team Two will be your eyes and ears, monitoring comms and camera from this dusty box."

"Better than that cold cave," Nyssa snipped.

"Cain and I will promptly push on to find C'vargén of Slomah and annihilate him." Damian sneered.

"Or try to," Cass added thoughtfully. "At the very best we shall attempt to hold him off long enough for Team One to complete their Objective."

"Meanwhile," Rachel said. "Team One will be advancing within the Ship, sabotaging whatever we can get our hands on once the twenty minutes pass should we have not found our prize."

Duke repressed the shiver at how coldly Rachel called Bruce and Jarvis her prize. It was like she didn't care for them at all.

And well, maybe she didn't. She was from another world after all.

"Otherwise, Team One will be searching for and carrying out Objective Sauvons," Nyssa chipped in. "Aka; the retrieval of W and P."

Wayne and Pennyworth, his mind filled in despite how he already knew what the letters stood for. He supposed he understood Nyssa's use of codenames, even though how she claimed this place to be clean.

Bruce's paranoia really was contagious.

In the end, this entire mission was to save their lost members. That was all that mattered.

"Should our cover be blown before the twenty minutes and comms are cut off," Nyssa went on, going off script. "Drop everything and leave. If you can't leave, fight or run - even if both options are bad. The hope is, that if we're busted, the other Team will come and help out."

"Now that we've got that outta the way," Jason cleared his throat, scraping the chair against the ground as he stood. "What's for dinner?"

 

 

-/-/-

 

 

Damian jiggled his shoulder pads, checking to make sure they were secure. Once he was satisfied they wouldn't fall off if he got hit too hard, he moved on to his League issued trousers, assuring himself his daggers and sais were all there.

"GLADIS will be good to go in five," Nyssa announced to the cave at whole. Todd grunted from where he was muttering with Rachel whereas Gordon smirked at something Cain had said.

Damian focused on tucking in his boot laces. Allah did not want a rendition of that one time when he'd been four and had tripped head over heels literally, nearly plummeting down the side of Mt. Fuji.

A low click shifted his attention to the darkened cavern that was guarded by a large titanium door. The armoury. Squinting at the shadows he stood, watching the door as Nyssa started speaking.

"Hope none of you get the jitters cuz this is all or nothing." The woman's suit seemed to puff up as she booted it up, eyes gleaming red. "So, GLADIS is booting up the software to send out the signal now--"

**_I'm afraid I'm not,_ ** GLADIS interrupted.

Nyssa opened and closed her mouth. "Then boot it up, G."

_**Afraid I can't, ma'am.**_ GLADIS said.

The clicks got louder.

"What?" Nyssa asked, the steel in her voice hard enough to break a sword. "You follow my commands, GLADIS, you answer to me. Boot up the software, now."

_**You've always had a superb sense of humor, Nyssa.** _ GLADIS cawed, _**But now I answer to a supreme ruler who doesn't have mental breakdowns every other day.**_

Nyssa looked miffed, "Excuse me?"

"AI problems are easily dealt with," Todd snarled, stomping past Nyssa up to the monitor. He pulled back his arm in the readying motion for a punch. "With a bit of good ol' _violencias."_

The armoury doors burst open revealing ten or so suits, namely a huge behemoth of a thing with hands the size of boulders at the front, leading the pack.

As everyone shuddered back, Nyssa screamed, "Take cover!"

Damian just about had time to grab Cain and hit the ground before the behemoth grabbed a similarly powered suit and threw it straight at them.

The monitor exploded as the suit that was thrown let loose a spurt of oxidised fire in a bid to save itself, lighting up the circuitry within. The ragdoll suit ultimately failed and ended up burning along with the computer.

"Alpha Code 7619, initiate lockdown!" Nyssa howled, jumping the podium and avoiding the fire as she sprang towards the behemoth. Her suit's eyes flushed dimly, turning a sudden white as she no doubt switched to a backup system as GLADIS cackled through the speakers littered around the Cave.

**Failure of Authentication,** the behemoth rumbled as the eight other suits zipped out from the armoury. Nyssa ripped something suspiciously like wires from her suit and growled, rebooting its system so that she could work without GLADIS' interference. Grabbing onto the things arm she scaled it, grabbing onto the plates between its neck and back to fiddle with what Damian assumed was an emergency deactivation port.

Damian decided to divert his attention to a purple glimmering one that suspiciously fell in and out of the visibility spectrum. Fishing two sais from his suit he slunk low, watching as it beelined towards the door. It was disabled instantly, limp form dropping to the ground, gold embroidered sai sticking out of its back.

He turned at a soft _churrp_ and came face-to-face with a dull navy suit that had its blade equipped arm outstretched as if to tap him on the shoulder. He kicked its knees in and shoved his other sai through its chest. It fell to its knees but didn't offline.

"There's the rotary cables by the heart," Nyssa called, jumping down off the behemoth -which now that Damian thought about it, hadn't that been one of Father's anti-Superman suits? The anti-S suit tumbled forward, chest planting loudly as a huff of steam escaped from its insides. "If destroying them doesn't take them down, blow up the heads."

Damian grabbed his sai and yanked it to the right. Electricity sparked around the gaping slash and his suit sunk down, head bowed, as it deactivated. 

"And if that don't work?" Duke shouted, obviously having some trouble with his as he dodged under a flurry of fists. Nyssa made a noise, now beside Damian, as she threw a small disc explosive at the man.

"Spin that to its highest level and shove it down the throat!"

Duke did just that.

The suit exploded outwards in a burst of colour.

Damian was pretty sure the whimper beside him was Nyssa mourning the destruction of her suits -because they obviously weren't Fathers- and pointedly ignored it. To save the woman some dignity, of course. 

_**Master C'vargén nears,**_ GLADIS murmured, voice crackling with static. Damian wondered how she was still online, with the monitor destroyed, but then he remembered she practically  _was_ the house.  ** _His ship is landing, please, prepare to bow down._**

"Great," Nyssa hissed. "Guess the plan's down the drain now."


	20. Is This Our End?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Take her and go," she mouths and Jason understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait guys. My muse for this story died a little bit but it's back. (I hope.)

 

C'vargén of Slomah walked into the Cave by the clock door with the confidence of a dead man. Why a dead man you wonder?

Well, let's just say Jason's never had much of a rein on his temper.

"How lovely to see you all, and to actually meet all of you this time round." The half man half machine snickers, hood swaying just over his glowing eyes, casting a shadow over his features. Something about it reminds Jason of Rachel's eyes, when she's stressed, but this is different somehow. C'vargén felt less threatening with Rachel firm by his side.

(And sue him for being sappy but it really did help.)

"Surprise surprise," Nyssa growled, her suit producing worrying chinking sounds. "We're not happy to see you."

"What?" C'vargén hummed, "Jealous Carla managed to hack your pathetic excuse of an AI? In a moments time, as your suit falls apart, you'll be begging me to spare you."

"How amusing," Damian says before Nyssa can add an extra cent. "It appears you have not done your research, Slomah."

"Is that so, Al Ghul?" The man sneered, "Do tell."

"You made the failure to assume we would even consider begging," Cass informed him, tone haughty and strong. They're at a standstill right now, with no one daring to move (even the controlled suits are frozen, broken and destroyed as they are) but Jason can practically feel the restless energy bouncing in the air as his not-family all twitch to attack. At least the madman's AI hadn't shown up yet.

Jason thinks too soon as three spiders lumber through the doorway.

_"Ready for service, Master."_ One clicked, sharp legs coming together to snap like the pincers of a crab. Rachel shifted beside him and Jason knows she longs to destroy that one.

"Say, how about we make a deal?" C'vargén laughed, eyes flitting between a dark red and an orange. Jason doesn't know why that's happening but he decides he doesn't care enough to care.

(He just wants this over with, just wants to go _home_.)

( _Home_ where his family love and laugh and smile. Not this too big house where everyone flutters around like flies, awkward to the very bone.)

"Of what sort?" Barbara asked, gun drawn. Now that Jason looked, he realised everyone else had their weapons pulled, everyone aside from C'vargén - he'd even subconsciously pulled out his tommee.

"One of honor," the time master boasts, cloak swirling around his heels as he plants a hand on his chest to imitate some sort of emotion he hasn't quite mastered yet. "My Ship is unguarded, if one - or possibly two - of you were to board it and successfully locate and rescue your missing members, I will leave in peace."

"And if those one or two were not able to do so and fail?" Duke toyed.

"Then I'll kill you all." The largest spider twitched, scraping a leg along the floor with a terrible scream. C'vargén laughed loudly, "Pardon, _we'll_ kill you all."

"Deal," Nyssa shouted, the sound echoing in the still cave like a sonic boom.

"Attack!" Just like that everything and everyone springs into action.

The spiders clamber forward and Nyssa's response is immediate, with her suits littered around them, in pieces, but responding to C'vargén's instruction (well, kinda. They just seem to be wiggling on the floor), she nods at Jason.

"Take her and go," she mouths and Jason understands.

They need to leave. _Have_ needed to leave for so long. They'll disable the AI, they'll get home. One way or another.

"Let's go," he grunted to Rachel, who nodded. C'vargén is insane, his mind lost, and it is easy to avoid the man as he spends the entirety of the time stumbling away from the door and towards the monitor.

They escape through the doors with nothing less than a wink for good luck from Cass.

The Manor's wreaked, walls stabbed, lampshades crumpled, the carpets stained and scored from the spiders talons. Rachel snickers as they pass the second living room -in their time, called the den- and find racks and racks of washing burning.

Jason stops them both and forces Rachel to find a fire extinguisher before the room goes up entirely.

Otherwise, it's pretty quiet. Ace has vanished to who-knows-where and if not for the distinct cackle and buzz of GLADIS' systems, Jason would've been willing to pretend that they were alone and everything was normal. He imagined they were back in their own world and time, raising a child away from the horrors of life whilst teaching them how to survive the right way, without death and destruction plaguing them.

They make it to the lobby and find the golden chair that sits by the wall of portraits upturned but that's about all.

Except for the fact, that of course, the front door is nonexistent. A gaping hole in its place, edges charred and smoking. It's far from a welcome sight.

The only upside to that is that it means they don't have to wonder where the Time Ship is. The front door is lying on its side, leant up against the boarding gate-thing (ramp, it's a ramp), subsequently ruining its attempt at invisibility.

(They probably would've ran into it anyway, it's like three steps away from the stone steps that they had to walk down to get into the drive.)

"How convenient," Rachel says and stalks on like a tiger hunting its prey. Jason, moving with a tad less confidence, feels his bones creak as they descend the steps. Then they're entering the Time Ship, edging forward ever so slightly, cautiously.

A creak signals the moving of the entrance ramp but they're too late. Their way out closes before their eyes.

"Crap," Rachel sighed.

 

 

C'vargén was odd. He walked with the limp of a lost man but talked with the grace of a king. The man smirked with the grimace of death yet he mumured with an eagerness to stay.

To put it lightly, Cass is confused by the man. The man who wavers on suicidal and syndicative every three seconds.

"What are you gonna gain in doing this?" Nyssa snarled at the man, tone low and accusatory. Cass only barely hear, multitasking on reading the two (mainly C'vargén) and fighting off the smallest spider.

She'd tried to go for the largest but Damian had beaten her to it. Her brother in arms was currently battling it ferociously, swords and sais flying and clanging against the things talon-legs.

It would have been a glorious sight had she time to pause and watch him in his crescendo of movement, but alas. She had a job to do.

Barbara and Duke were teaming up against the other spider, Rachel and Jason had left to find Bruce and Jarvis and Nyssa was having snarling match with Slomah.

All in a normal day, really.

"Nothing you'd recognise, dear Batwoman." C'vargén lashes out, pulling what seems to be a lazer gun from nowhere and aiming at Nyssa's chest.

The woman forces herself to roll away, to the right, and Cass sees her chance and takes it.

She pulled out her dagger and forced the spider backwards in one sharp slash that has it down one leg. The mechanical engineering monstrosity stumbled back, directly into the lazer beam's path.

C'vargén roared in fury as his spider dropped to the ground, limbs jerking as its control box became nothing more than a charred and smoldering husk.

"No!" He screams, pushing himself away from where he'd ended up near the armoury to run towards his downed _machine-robot-ally?_. Damian sneers from where he battles his enemy and has the thing decaptiated in a furious swipe, turning to approach C'vargén only to be intercepted and drawn into a fight with the other spider, aiding their siblings.

Cass takes the initiative and jumps over the scatters pieces of suits and slashes down down down.

C'vargén howls as his metal arm falls to the ground with a clatter, in his other he clutches the smoking remains of his spider. His eyes are wide, crazed, furious and Cass can barely register anything, from sound to movement, before there's a lazer gun aimed between her eyes.

"Prepare to die!" Shrieks the man, infuriated in his pain. His aura is gone, replaced with the cold bite of mechanical parts and fake, oh so fake that it's so sad to watch his fall, how he's dying from the inside out, mentally. It's the metal, the robot, the AI in control now.

And then, Cass sees black.

Cass is tumbling, tumbling to the side from a strong cold hand. There's a gunshot then Nyssa's screaming and C'vargén's head is rolling away and Duke looks horrified as he runs forward. Damian's aura flares up from across the cave, angry, scared, _worried._ Cass can't believe what she's seeing, Nyssa's armour is shedding, falling apart right before their eyes and she's bleeding, bleeding so much _everywhere_ and C'vargén looks like he's smiling but he's dead and there's a green gloop surrounding him and Cass can't understand.

She doesn't want to.

Nyssa hits the ground with a loud thump that rings in her ears.

C'vargén is down but one of their own has payed the price.


	21. CARLA's Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were on comm silence right now, or else Jase would've been making a quip about how the AI was loosing its mind before them. She was hitting fifty, she didn't need her husband taunting her remaining years in her face.

 

Rachel ducked under hanging, sparking wires, making sure to stay quiet as she stalked along the Time Ship's corridors. Her and Jase had split up, deciding it was for the best despite the current situation.

_**Come along little animal**_ ** _..._** CARLA twittered, just as she'd been doing for the ten odd minutes Rachel had been wandering her halls. She sounded deranged and Rachel reckoned she was hitting the end of her lifespan.

They were on comm silence right now, or else Jase would've been making a quip about how the AI was loosing its mind before them. She was hitting fifty, she didn't need her husband taunting her remaining years in her face.

Or a child for that matter. Although they'd been trying for what felt like and what was _years_ , she wasn't ready for it just yet. The revelation had been a shock too, with her mind playing tricks and firing off against her.

It wasn't that she didn't want a child, she thought as she sprinted past a turn-off, swords held protectively. It had just been a shock.

It really had been.

Very suddenly alarms went off, loud and blaring. They hurt her ears and made her stop, eyes wide as the walls seemed to shake.

_**The bats have been bad!**_ CARLA hollered, her voice echoing through each and every corridor. It made Rachel glad her hearing had dulled with age and the introduction of the antidelectrum. (Which was a rare occurrence.) _**They've hurt— hurrr— hhuuurrttt**_

Rachel winced as the AI's voice screeched, cutting off with an electrical sounding chirp. That didn't sound good.

True to the tale, a part of the wall slid up, revealing a small niche of an alcove. A large spider clamoured out, swaying as if it was drunk.

Her gut twisted with irritation. Here she was, trying to find the centre of the ship to find the control room, only to be held back by a metal monster.

Thinking fast, she jumped into the darkened side of the corridor, sticking close to the wall as the spider wobbled ahead of her. It hadn't appeared to have noticed her so she backed up, sword glinting by her side as she slowly crept backwards—

And walked straught into the towering frame of yet another spider.

_**Run, run, run!**_ It screamed, and Rachel gritted her teeth, sword raised, as the other spider jerked in her direction. They climbed towards her. _**Little Rachel Wayne, what a good way to walk. Are you ready to die?**_

"I'm fine," she snapped, rolling her shoulders as her back burned at the touch of a cold wall. Her eyes went on overdrive, darting around as the spiders closed in on her position.

The right was clear, but that was the obvious direction she'd been walking in from the start. If she could get out unseen and dart to the left she could go down that earlier turn-off which she'd bypassed before.

Plan made she dug into her utility belt and, sadly finding it not as full as she was used to, grabbed a smoke pellet. It hit the ground and a second later she was running.

Briefly, as she darted away under the cover of her own making, she realised she was doing exactly what CARLA wanted; she was _running._

 

 

Under the cover of a recent alarm going off, Jason had fell into a hole. Literally.

He'd been walking, as was normal, through another corridor that looked exactly like the one he'd just walked through, when the alarm had went off. CARLA had blurted out something so twisted in static Jason didn't quite know what she'd said.

She'd been saying weird things up to that point, so Jason assumed it wasn't anything overly flattering.

And then, as per his fortune with lady luck, the floor opened up and he fell.

He ended up on his ass, on a cold, hard surface. Which wasn't much of a change from the corridors so he assumed he'd fallen down a floor. (If it was possible.)

Standing, he fingered his belt for a glowstick. He could barely see anything in the darkness, even when his nightvision lenses kicked in. That worried him.

The glowstick cracked nicely before bathing him and the walls around him in a caring blue. It reminded Jason of Rachel, even as he squinted out into the abyss of black and blinked at what he saw.

It looked like a fucked up puppet, only the puppet was a spider. And it was strung up to the wall, long pincers only inches away from his helmet. Jason jerked back and felt his back slam into something too soft and traumatizingly wet.

Shouting in surprise he whirled round,coming face to face with a rotting body. It was an old man, head held away from his main body by a long pike, stabbed straight through him. Jason hadn't smelled the corpse due to him shutting his filters down when they'd entered the ship, too paranoid to risk anything he could've avoided.

A cold draft wooshed through the thin suffocating corridor of which he'd fallen into. That, coupled with the corpse, made his stomach twist. Something was seriously wrong with this ship.

_You must leave,_ a voice whispered. Jason jolted, tommee rising as he spun in a circle. His heart hadn't thumped this fast since Rachel's run-in with Bane, and that had been six years ago.

"Who's there?" He bellowed.

Silence lingered for a moment before the same voice chuckled. Movement drew Jason's eyes to the decapitated, rotting head.

He felt bile rise in his throat at the sight, and he'd seen a lot of shit in his lifetime(s). It— The head. The head was moving. It's eyes were opened from sagging eyelids, dull hazel liquidy blobs stared at him and its mouth was drawn as taut as possible, into a droopy grin.

_You need to leave this time._ It said, lips shivering with each jaw movement.

"What the fuck are you?" He ground out, tommee pointed dead ahead. He refused to notice how his hand shook at the literal zombie.

_That need not matter._ It said, sounding too muc like Alfred for Jason's comfort. _Your wife and you are in great peril. You must find this world's Bruce and leave._

"I don't need advice from a talking head," Jason snarled.

_Ah, but that is what I said, all too long ago._ The head shifted then, turning in a western direction. Jason followed its gaze and gulped.

The rest of the corridor, as small as it was, seemed to glow and give a perfect view of the entire way down. On each side, every five meters was a skeleton. Some, at the far end, had even disintergrated so much that only the large chains or pikes were left behind.

"What the fuck." Jason said, and it didn't even feel like a question anymore. The head jolted back, despite the pike clearly going straight through, and cackled horrifically.

_Like so many._ It murmured. _Leave now, and renew your search with anewed vigor. Your lives depend on it._

Jason jolted up, helmet scraping off the wall he'd fell on. His breathing came in harsh pants and he felt sticky, body damp with sweat as it was.

_What the hell,_ he thought. He wasn't one for cliché dreams and that one took the entire damn cake.

He climbed to unsteady feet and carried on, determined to speed this up and find Bruce or Rachel. He wasn't picky.

All that mattered was that they lived. There was no point in going on if Bruce was dead.

That dream did have him thinking though, it had him thinking just a little bit _too_ much.

Seeing as how he nearly walked out, right into the open junction of corridors, when two _huge_ spiders rushed out, clicking between themselves.

Jason nearly shit himself, seeing the two glinting beasts scramble past, going so fast they were nearly blurrs. The wall suddenly seemed like a nice place to hug.

He carried on like that from there on.


	22. The Fool's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The suit was gone, revelling in its freedom and rebelling against her and everything she knew. GLADIS was gone, corrupt, maybe not, but definitely hacked.

 

Nyssa stumbled back, boots dragging on the glossed floor. Her heart was beating a thousand times a second, contracting and pushing against her ribcage in what felt like an earthquake rumbling inside of her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't get air past her too tight throat. Her chest hurt. Everything hurt.

She'd pushed Cassandra away at the bringing of pain she should be used to but wasn't.

Her neck throbbed in remembrance.

"Batwoman!"

Words swirled in her head, words she'd never heard said but hoped had been when she'd been asleep or otherwise. They bunched up like ragged, tired animals and lurked in the corners, awaiting their next meal with ferocious snarls. Like her fears, really.

Always there, they were.

No matter what.

"Wake up, Nyssa!"

Her legs were numb, she couldn't feel anything past her chest and the sudden realisation had her seizing for movement, for some sort of control before everything got truly too much to handle. The suit was gone, revelling in its freedom and rebelling against her and everything she knew. GLADIS was gone, corrupt, maybe not, but definitely hacked.

"C'mon, Niss!"

Air was pushed back into her lungs and they expanded with the force and volume but it didn't take. The earthquake was battering her from the outside too, large hands pushing down on her chest so hard she only knew _hurt._

"Damn it," someone was screaming, frustration and a rushed emotion in their voice. "Hurry up and do something, Duke! She can't die here."

That was preposterous. Of course she wouldn't die she was the Batwoman, Batwoman was infallible, unbreakable, _unkillable._

_Then how come you're bleeding out on the_ _floor?_ A voice too much like Bruce's mocked and Nyssa chocked.

"Yes," a voice urged. "Come on, kid."

Her world tipped and spun, casting her into a blank sheet of darkness. No longer was she standing, now she lay. She wondered when she'd closed her eyes, couldn't remember when she'd opened them.

She lay bleeding out on the floor of the Cave she so called home. No longer did death taunt her, pulling her down and forcing her to drag her time out.

Nyssa gasped and welcomed the cold sting of air; a feeling she'd long forgotten.

 

 

Rachel rolled back, away from the slice of the spider and tried to back into the Time Ship's shadows to no avail.

CARLA was good, that was for sure, with multiple spiders roaming it meant one had finally cornered her. The AI seemed to have complete control over her ship when C'vargén did not. Or maybe she just pretended the half-cyborg half-man had _any_ control because the way the AI maneuvered around made it feel like she controlled _everything._

_**Come out, come out!**_ The AI hummed, voice low and murmuring. It wasn't directed towards Rachel for the spider still flung itself at her and they were very much in the open. Nonetheless, the words alone sent a shiver deep down her fucked up spine.

Rachel sweeped low, left arm going out as she thrust the dagger forward. It made contact with a silencing grate and the spider seemed to have to shake itself, to reorientate itself, before it stilled.

_**"Rachel Wayne,"**_ CARLA snicked (this spider had long ago lost its aninomity), joints revolving to release sharpened blades as long as they were wide. Honestly, from an outside point it would've looked stupid but as it was, it looked _horrifying._ _ **"Rest in pieces, dearie."**_

And she lunged.

 

 

Jason sizzled up close and personal with the wall, keeping near to it as he edged round the corner, pistol held firm and steady. The hallway was clear.

Jogging down it with long practiced strides, careful to be as quiet as possible, he listened for any signs of life. It appeared he'd found a blackout zone in CARLA's defensive or else she was playing him the fool.

Either way spelt danger so it didn't really matter.

He had to find Rachel. That was all that mattered.

The gun in his hands whirred, suggesting life signs as he came up to a branching hallway. One thing to be sure was that this Time Ship was _enormous._ It seemed to go on for _years_ , the corridors twisting and turning and branching off constantly. If he'd been properly paying attention (and not briefly skimming over everything that didn't meet his current needs) he'd probably have a headache by now.

As it was, Jason practically plastered himself to the wall and breathed as shallowly as possible. Everything would be pointless if he was found out now, so why take an unnecessary risk?

_**"Come out! Come out!"**_ CARLA's sick voice cooed, a hum to it that had the monotone vibrating in the air and echoing eerily throughout the hallway. It made Jason feel nauseous and pinned down. Like she knew where he was and was joking around with him anyway.

He pulled the gun close to his face. (It did nothing to help his nerves.)

The twang of one of the leg knives stabbing itself into the ground sounded and Jason closed his eyes, listening.

He could practically feel the cool thrum of the pistol against his cheek it was so close. As it was, his helmet was still on, but he could dream.

_**"Rachel Wayne,"**_ CARLA snickered. Jason readied to spin around into the doorway and shoot it, bending his knees, feeling the twitch of his thighs. He was getting too old for this. _**"Rest in pieces, dearie."**_

He moved, pushing himself out into the opening and shoving his gun forward. His aim was true and the bullet pierced the voice box, causing it to emit a terrible howl of agony. He didn't know if these things felt pain, but it worked for him. Rachel blinked at him, a scratch on her cheek taking its damn time to heal as she smiled awkwardly in thanks.

Jason winked, jumping forward a few steps to grab her before whisking them out of the hallway just as CARLA regained her bearings and charged, piercers aimed forward.

Rachel followed like a lost duckling as he pulled them into a hallway, watching bizarrely as the spider stumbled past, legs shaking like an avalanche on a cliff side.

"It missed us," Rachel said, gripping his hand to reassure herself he was real. "How?"

"Dunno, baby." He said, ducking down for a quick peck-and-go. "Somethin' mus' be wrong with 'er mainframe. We're in a dark spot righ' now."

Truly, the hallway they'd ducked into was dark and unmoving, unlike the others which were lit up medial bay style bleached-white, humming with a foreign life that foretold Carla's presence.

"C'vargén?" Rachel asked, fiddling with her sparsely stocked belt. From the looks of it, she'd used most of her shit up by merely being onboard, unlike him.

"Batwoman was dealin' with him, 'member? Dunno how far she got though."

"Damn it," Rachel hissed, jerking her head off to the side to peer down the hallway. She's paranoid, just like him and everyone else.

It's been too long since they've had a breather. They'll need to take one soon, regroup maybe, because this stretch has been going on for too long. At this rate, Gotham will fall.

"We need'ta find B," he clears his throat, speaking low. Rachel nods roughly; a sign of her nerves. "We'll be fine, Rache."

She looks up at him at that, eyes so full of innocence even God would have a hard time of naming her a killer. Assassin doesn't even begin to link up with those soft cheeks or pale oceanic eyes.

"I know," Rachel sighs, leaning into his side for a moment of untold want. "I just— I..."

She trails off and Jason leans down to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Shh, baby." He soothes as she sighs in distress. "We'll get through this, we always do."

"Damn it," she says, pulling away abruptly. "I'm so fucking weak. Always. Constantly breaking down and shit, I'm so helpless. It's disgusting."

Jason grabbed her arm before she got the chance to stalk off. She looked at him again, their eyes meeting and the unspoken agreement that she could pull his arm out of its socket should he say the wrong thing was there clear as day.

"You're far from weak, babe."

"I know that," Rachel runs a hand through her hair in the way Nyssa been doing recently. "God, now it's like I'm beginning for attention or something."

"You're really not—"

"No." Rachel silences him with a sharp hand gesture. "That's it. Conversation over and done with. Good?" She doesn't pause for him. "Good."

She stomps off, dead set on the hallway for the control center. (Or well, the one that seems likely enough.)

"Love ya," he says.

"I love you too," is the returned whisper.

Jason grins and follows, not letting the dampened mood ruin everything.


	23. Here We Are At The Top Of The Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it.

 

 

Bruce raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Nightwing and Red Hood as they trundled into the control room. His arms ached from where C'vargén had cuffed them behind his back, the wall still cold.

"Took you both long enough," he grunted. Jarvis puffed a laugh from where he was cuffed opposite him.

"What," Jason snipped playfully, "You want us to bend over backwards to find your asses?"

"I don't think I could," Rachel chipped in, daggers clutched loosely in her hands. The two seemed skittish as they looked around the room, Jason's helmet lingering in the direction of the control pannel. "Back's not up for it anymore."

She sighed wistfully and Bruce wondered, deep down, what had happened. He couldn't remember anything happening when he was around.

"I'm not sure about Bruce," Jarvis gently reminded them of his presence. "But I would entirely appreciate being freed."

"Oh," Jason chuckled, fingers diving into his belt to pull out a lock pick. "No problem."

Rachel nodded at what must've been a hidden hand signal and walked forward, stopping in front of Bruce. He stared up at her, at the thinness of her lips, at the greying streaks in her hair that were small hairs but made up so much of her image. As she bent down, her own lockpick picking at his cuffs, Bruce mulled that over.

Back in 2027 she was roughly fifty, yet she was only meant to look around thirty. Here she looked the entire fifty years. Something had went wrong, something that differed. Had the timestream changed, was his memory failing him?

The cuffs chinked and the weight was gone. Bruce rubbed at his wrists thoughtfully.

"We don't have all day," Rachel grunted, grabbing him gently by the shoulder and hauling him up. "C'mon."

"We've gotta go," Jason grunted from where he was standing, leaving Jarvis to get to his feet himself.

_Well,_ Bruce remarked. _At least his manners haven't changed._

 

 

Jarvis watched the two timetravellers, noticing how they walked with confidence Nyssa couldn't bare to use outside of costume. He felt the jealousy for her, felt the pain it brought her to know she had to live up to _this_ , to these people, these _legends._

"Pleasure to meet you both, formally," he said to the woman who stood idly in the middle of the room, watching them as her husband poked around at the control panel of buttons. "I am Jarvis Pennyworth."

"The butler from the sixteenth world," the woman said, not at all seeming rushed. In fact, she seemed _bored._ "Indeed. Nightwing. That's Red Hood."

"Jarvis is a trusted confidant," Bruce said and something warm swelled in Jarvis' chest. "I'm sure you can lower your guard around him, Rachel."

"We've been put off that without the background checks, B." Red Hood chuckled darkly from where he stood. "Past experiences an' all."

Bruce seemed a bit put off at that and Jarvis would be lying if he wasn't too.

"Past experiences of such?" He asked.

Red Hood hit a button and a small timer popped up on the holographic display. He hit another and a bubble appeared, swallowing up the outside display view of the ship.

"Self-destruct is activated, shields are up. We need to go. _Now._ "

Jarvis blinked in shock before he and Bruce were being hustled along, Hood in front with Nightwing behind them. It all seemed so cold, so programmed that Jarvis wondered if they really had been freed of the cyborg man's hold.

Something binged behind him, halfway into their half-walk half-jog. Nightwing cursed.

"Self-destruct has been sped up. Just got signal from outside, C'vargén's dead and—" she trailed off as they picked up the speed.

"And what?" Bruce asked, tone worried but still as strong as ever. Jarvis almost wondered on how he did it, but he supposed he knew, because he could pull it off himself. When no response came, he prompted, "Rachel?"

The tense silence creeps up on them all, wallowing in its misery and just as Jarvis thinks it's going to swallow them whole, Rachel says, "Batwoman is down."

Bruce picks up the pace, but not at all moreso than Jarvis.

 

 

His chest burns at the thought of Batwomam being down, because the last time someone said that a Bat was down was when Steph was buried under a skyscraper, or when Rachel had her fucking back—

Long story short, Jason doesn't have any good experiences with those three words of baseline _Bat is down._ It makes his eyes sting, thinking of it alone.

When they reach the ramp door, Rachel brushes ahead to hack it whilst they wait. Bruce is silent, all attempts at unwanted small talk gone. The girl's butler is pacing, murmuring things just out of Jason's earshot.

It sounds like he's praying.

And well, _God doesn't look at us, butler boy. Don't bother._ Is what Jason wants to say but doesn't.

Rache gets the door open not a minute later, the red, flashing _00:29_ sending his heartrate up and making his headache thump with his pulse.

The sight that greets them is very much the same, aside from the fact that Ace is sitting by the hole in the wall that's there instead of a door. If Bruce is surprised by the missing feature, he doesn't comment nor show it, instead racing over to the whining dog as fast as any other septuagenarian could. Maybe a tad faster.

"Who's a good boy?" Bruce instantly ruffled behind the dog's ears. He's worried though, Jason knows. It's in how he's squinting at the 'lack of a door' hole. "What's happened, huh? Come on, take me to Nyss."

And the dog does. He perks up, eyes shining and big at the mention of the other woman, and scampers off with his tail between his legs, barking for them to follow.

Inside the Cave is orchestrated chaos. Barbara and Duke are over by the medbay, the latter hunched over a medcot, holding a too pale hand, while the former is bustling about, grabbing things like antiseptic and the like. Damian is crouched above the decaptiated body of C'vargén, poking it with a sai with a bored expression on his flushed face, and Cass is petting Ace, seeing as how he beelined it to her.

Damian stills his poking and looks up, wearing a bit of a deer in the headlights look as he blinks at them. His composure rate is rather fast, for a brat like him. "Father, Pennyworth," he nods, back already straightened, face drawn tight. "Good to see you are both in good health. Same for you peasants."

Rachel shakes her head in a show of mirth. "Demon Spawn," she greets. Her head tips to the direction of the lit up medbay. "What happened?"

"Slomah was defeated," the man says curtly. "We are now awaiting a telecom from the Legends to announce how they plan to spectacularly take you plebeians home."

"Don't avoid the question," Jason can't help but growl when Rachel shifts in annoyance.

"I was not," Damian fires back defensively before softening. "Slomah became enraged at Cassandra's destruction of one of his spiders, his sanity splintered further and Batwoman ended up jumping in front of Cassandra to save her."

Jason notes the careful detached feeling of Damian's words as the man differs between home names and work names. It's like he's scared to call the kid family, scared to acknowledge another one has fallen. He takes off his helmet, wanting to see this through.

"How is she?" Bruce asks, almost desperate. Jason's willing to bet a thousand bux that Nyssa's never seen him like this, over her especially.

"She'll come round," Babs says, coming out of the medbay. Duke is still in there, hunched over and seemingly applying bandages to the kid's chest. "Some scaring but from what she's got on her hip it'll be nothing in comparison."

The jab is there, the jab that Bruce let the kid get hurt. Yet Bruce ignores it. Instead, he smiles and claps Barbara on the shoulder as he walks by her, intent for the bay. "Thanks to your expertise, no doubt."

Barbara chokes on her spit at the compliment but lets him pass. She greets Jason and Rachel with grim eyes that hope for saviour.

"So, the bastard's Time Ship is destroyed," he says to which Rachel nods.

"Yes. Exactly three minutes ago."

Barbara raises an eyebrow so much like Bruce had earlier. She tries for a laugh that comes out sad and weak. The tension in the Cave grows by the second. "Really?"

"We locked it within its shields," Rachel says in explanation for the lack of tremors.

Jason smirked. "More like, I did."

"I backed them up when we left," Rachel says and this is why he loves her (and so much more). "Otherwise we wouldn't be standing here, rather, we'd have been buried here."

"Well, thanks," Barbara says then stops. The display is ringing, a low buzzing thing that indicates an incoming call. Jason's surprised they got the mainframe back up so quickly. "Better get that, that'll be the Legends. The back up doesn't hold data too well, god forbid we miss their call."

That explained it.

And then, Jason and Rachel were left standing there.

Damian had begun cleaning up C'vargén's weird green blood and Cass was paying them no heed, her attention stuck on the dog in her lap.

Rachel nudged him, looking pointedly at the medbay. Bruce excited, looking a bit rougher than earlier, muttering something about needing a coffee.

Jason kinda wondered how they hadn't put a coffee machine in the Cave yet. It wasn't like there was a Tim to take advantage of it anymore.

(His gut twisted and shrivelled up at that very thought.)

The butler had vanished.

"C'mon," Rachel grabbed his sweaty gloved hands and pulled him along, into the medbay, and into the weak stare of grey eyes.

"Hey," Nyssa mumbled, voice weak, strength weaker. Duke was over by the side, tinkering with something and apparently not leaving any time soon.

Rachel nodded back. "How are you?"

Nyssa tried a grin that fell short into a pained smirk. "'m okay."

"Took a hit for the team, huh?" Jason tried to joke. Duke moved jerkily in the corner and showed just how much his humor was appreciated.

Nyssa, though, seemed fine with it. "Guess I did." She chuckled breathily. "You here for a reason?"

"How'd'ya know?" Jason smirked. His helmet all of a sudden felt very heavy in his hands.

"Call it a woman's intuitive," she huffed, fingers bunching up the bed sheet covering her. Her bandages were stark against her pale skin and even paler —but blood splattered— cot.

"On that note," Rachel stepped forward a bit, beside Jason still but in front of him. "If the child is a boy, would we be allowed to call him after you?"

Nyssa went for a laugh that turned into a bone shaking cough. It took her a moment to return from that but when she did, her eyes were sparkling. "You can call your kid whatever the damn hell you want to."

Jason smiled, liking the way this way going. Rachel said, "We kinda need your deadname for that to work though."

Nyssa went silent. Then, "How did you know?"

"We took the elevator once, opened us up into the living room," and Jason _had not_ known this. "There was a photo there, of Bruce and a kid with your eyes."

"Going by someones eyes alone is a bit risky," Nyssa seemed both amused and awed.

"Not many have Bruce's eyes, kid." Jason grunted.

"True enough," Nyssa said. "We do have a bit of a rare gene in us, after all."

A minute of silence later; "My— I was called Terrance."

Rachel nodded her thanks, a soft smile Jason hadn't seen in far too long on her lips. Her eyes sparkled. "You get called Terry a lot?"

"Yeah," Nyssa sighed like she was reminiscing but there was pain in her eyes. This was obviously a tough subject. "Didn't like it much, you can see why I changed it."

Rachel shrugged, "We all have the right to be whoever we want to."

Nyssa smiled at that. A real smile.

"And 'course, if kid's a girl, she'll be called Nyssa." Jason added.

Nyssa held up her hand for both of them to hold. Her eyes were shining. "Thanks. This— That means a lot to me."

"No problem, kid."

"Please, it's Nyssa."

Jason agreed, "Nyssa."

 

 

**9 months later**

 

"He's beautiful, what are you going to name him?"

"Terrance," Rachel said, clutching her baby boy tight. "Terrance Alfred Riordan John Wayne."

"What a lovely name."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I'd like to thank everyone for commenting, all the support and the kudos! (For both this and Gotham's Talon) Desirous Revenge will be my next main focus, with oneshots (hopefully) popping up here and there, filling in more. TFT was fun to write, and although I lost interest halfway through I stuck to it and here we are.
> 
> Our story is complete.
> 
> But the series is not.
> 
> Seriously, get ready for some fun oneshots and the actual formation of the Batfam and the get together of Rache' and Jay.
> 
> Thanks for everything! XD


End file.
